


Midnight in the Garden of Truths and Dares

by hellostarlight20



Series: We Are Never Alone [5]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Episode: s04e10 Midnight, F/M, Family Drama, Lots of it, My take on all of this, Next in the series, Not a rewrite, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four of them have managed to survive time traveling across the universe, finding each other, living together, and 1969…but the universe isn’t finished with them. There's Martha's family, the Gardens of Versailles, and moving forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not season 3 canon-compliant. Nope, not at all.  
> Kilodalton is my wonderful beta and I can’t thank her enough!

Martha was being stubborn and knew it. She didn’t care. Even the TARDIS knew it and hummed an agreement in the back of her mind. She ignored that, too. In fact, she sat down on the floor of their yoga room and crossed her arms over her chest and yes…yes she did.

She pouted.

“No.” She glared at Rose as the other woman sat next to her.

It’d been only a week since they’d returned to the TARDIS. A week where the Doctor had taken them across the universe to see suns being born and stars dying, and nebulae, and comets racing across alien skies. Anything not planet bound. Any place that wasn’t Earth. Any when, and not once had he let Rose out of his sight.

Martha thought that achingly sweet.

A week where she and Jack had grown closer. Not just physically, but a week where he opened up to her more. More about his life prior to meeting the Doctor and Rose, more about John Hart, more about his lost two years’ worth of memories. More about his time with Torchwood and the calluses he’d grown over his heart working with them.

Her heart hurt for Jack, hurt for the boy he’d been and the man that he was forced to become. Hurt for the man betrayed and the one creating a new life for himself. The man who’d teetered on the brink of giving up and not caring and running away.

The man she’d almost missed.  
The man she nearly hadn’t the chance to know.

Martha’d overheard the end of a conversation between the Doctor and Rose about the incredibly slim chances of Rose’s first leap across dimensions ending with her finding him—what were the chances Jack arrived in New York the same time?

What were the chances of her meeting Jack and being open to a relationship with him? If he hadn’t arrived—no, if _Rose_ hadn’t arrived (if they hadn’t arrived at the same time?)—would Martha now be falling in love with Jack?

Oh, boy.

She’d so far avoided thinking of the L word. But now that it’d managed to sneak into her consciousness, she was afraid it was there to stay. For the moment Martha ignored it. And ignored the TARDIS’s hum of amusement.

Traitorous ship. The TARDIS hummed louder.

She’d think about Jack later. Right now, Martha focused on her family.

Because it’d also been a week where her previous life grew farther and farther away. A week where she’d wondered what her parents would’ve thought had she been trapped in 1969. Or if an older Martha would’ve found Francine and Clive and told them the truth before she died, like Billy Shipton had done with Sally Sparrow.

“Why don’t you want to tell them?” Rose asked. Curious-interested-soft-understanding.

They’d taken to doing 40 minutes of Omicron Yoga daily to keep limber along with all the running they usually found themselves doing. Every morning before breakfast they’d meet up in this room, try to ignore the other’s marks from the previous night’s love making, and get ready to start their day. Jack usually made breakfast for them afterwards.

Forty minutes of just them, she and Rose and the TARDIS, where they laughed and talked and shared secrets. Where Martha confessed a kinky side to herself she’d never have suspected until Jack. 

( _What happened to your wrists?_ Rose had asked one morning, nodding to the faint mark on her left wrist where Martha had tugged a little too harshly as Jack did amazing things to her body. At Martha’s blush, Rose also flushed a deep red. _Oh. Ohhh._ Then Rose tilted her head and grinned a tad more conspiratorially than Martha expected. _Enjoy yourself did you?_ Martha’s blush and stammer of incoherency said it all.)

Where Rose tried to explain how the Doctor really could bend time around them _(It’s not really bending time, but that’s as close as I can describe it to someone who isn’t there to experience it.)_ as they made love—and how utterly fantastic it was to feel each touch, each caress, each kiss expand and flow and continue on and on and on. She’d then suggested a form of sex that involved extending and expanding each sensation.

Martha had taken the book from the library, in total secret with the help of the TARDIS, but had yet to suggest it to Jack. 

Their time together where the hum of the TARDIS soothed and made Martha feel more alive than she’d ever thought possible.

Currently, their time where Rose tried to convince her to tell her family about her travels with she and the Doctor. About her relationship with Jack.

“They wouldn’t understand,” Martha admitted in a rush, the secrets and knowledge and truth of the matter coming out so fast she couldn’t stop the words. “They have this little limited view of me that doesn’t include anything other than whose side I’m on in the current argument and if I’ve spoken to either mum or dad and what did they say?”

Martha huffed and finally admitted the truth of the matter, to herself, to Rose, and to the TARDIS. The hum in the back of her mind offered comfort and Martha was grateful. It hurt to be honest, to realize she wasn’t just Adventurous Martha but also Uncertain Martha who’d run from her previous life as surely and as quickly as she ever had with her friends.

Family.

That’s what Jack had called them, one night while they were in bed, still trapped before Billy arrived, before the TARDIS reappeared, before they’d left on their mad dash across the universe. His family—this family. Not the mother, father, brother he’d finally admitted to having. And losing. But the Doctor, Rose…and her. ( _And the TARDIS, that sexy old girl_ , he’d laughed and she had laughed along with him.)

And that was when Martha had realized the truth in his words and the niggling doubt of her own reasons shone brightly through.

“When the Doctor first asked me if I wanted a trip, I jumped at the chance,” she admitted slowly. Martha looked up as Rose stayed quiet next to her. “I’d just come from Leo’s twenty-first birthday and everyone was arguing. I’d been to the moon but no one believed me. No one really cared, all they wanted to do was shout at each other and keep circling in their own little worlds.”

Martha flopped back on the floor, feet dangling off her yoga mat onto the highly polished hardwood beneath. She had no idea what kind of wood it was but it definitely wasn’t native-Earth wood.

“So I ran. I leaped at the chance to do something and see things and be more than Martha in the Middle, the child who kept the peace, the one everyone used as a go-between. I wanted something for me, and the Doctor’s offer was it.”

“And you don’t want to tell them the truth because you’re afraid of what?” Rose asked gently. “That they’ll take it from you? That they won’t understand? That they’ll laugh at you?” She grimaced. “Yeah.”

For the first time Martha wondered how Rose’s mum found out about aliens and travelling with the Doctor.

“I ran,” Martha sighed, not in answer to Rose’s question—in answer to her own internal questions. “I used the chance to run. Exploring and seeing history and the future and all those things was great. But I used the offer to run away.”

Rose nodded and licked her lips, slowly folding herself onto the mat next to Martha. “I didn’t at first, you know. I didn’t go with him. The first time the Doctor asked me, I let my fears hold me back. I wanted to. Oh, I wanted to. I wanted to be with the most amazing man in his fantastic ship and see everything. But I said no. Because I was scared.”

Rose stretched out next to her and the hum of the TARDIS changed. Martha looked up at the vaulted ceiling. Before a nondescript coral and grey, now it was one of the nebulas they’d seen, the four of them standing in the open doors of the TARDIS, simply watching the beauty of the universe.

Jack’s hard body behind her, one arm around her shoulders. She’d rested her head on his chest and had felt utterly content. There were no family arguments, no arrogantly bored doctors taking her around her internship, no other interns…no exams. Just them, the four of them staring out into space at one of the most beautiful scenes Martha’d ever witnessed.

“I didn’t tell my mum…” Rose paused and sighed. “I thought it’d be a short trip—or at least the Doctor promised that no matter what we did, to my mum it’d only be a few hours and no one would notice. But then her life was in danger because I hadn’t told her.” Rose stopped and shrugged, her clothing rustling on the 30th century all natural fiber yoga mat.

“She didn’t handle it well, I won’t lie to you. But it was better when she knew.”

“Because you didn’t have to lie?” Martha asked. She sighed and rested a hand on the hardwood floor and the warmth of the TARDIS melted through her. “I’m not very good a lying. I prefer to just avoid it all.”

“No,” Rose disagreed.

She didn’t sound angry or sad or much of anything—resigned. Quiet. Martha suddenly remembered her mum was in another universe and Rose couldn’t just ring her up and chat. Or stop by and pretend only a day or a few hours had passed.

Her heart twisted at the thought. Sure, she didn’t mind avoiding her family, but to know she’d never see them again? Martha reached out, still staring up at the nebula, and squeezed Rose’s hand. She couldn’t look at her, afraid the tears she felt on her friend’s behalf would spill over.

“Because.” Rose cleared her throat and squeezed her hand back. Martha felt the other woman relax beside her and then did turn just enough to make sure Rose was okay. Or as okay as she could be.

Rose took a deep breath and smiled up at the sky—the image the TARDIS offered them with Her warm glow and soft understanding. Martha relaxed again, her hand slipping from Rose’s.

“When my mum knew what to expect,” Rose continued, “she knew what to look out for. She wasn’t going to blindly walk into something she thought was human but was really alien. She didn’t always get it, but she was more aware.”

“She didn’t completely lose it?” Martha asked.

Suddenly she wanted to meet Jackie Tyler. Wanted to know Rose’s mum. And maybe wanted to use Jackie to ease things between her and her own mum. She was adult enough to admit that.

“Oh, she did!” Rose laughed now and folded her own hands behind her head. “She did. But later, once I’d said…once I was in that other universe for a while. Months. Nearly half a year.” She cleared her throat again.

“She told me and Mickey something. We were working on the cannon, the stars weren’t yet going out but it was all theoretical at that point anyway, going through the Void once it was completely closed.”

Rose paused and swallowed. Martha didn’t have to wonder if Rose would’ve jumped across dimensions if the stars hadn’t been going out—she knew. The answer was yes. Always yes. Would she do that for Jack?

“Anyway, Mum said something she told Elton, this kid who was looking for the Doctor. He wanted answers about something that had happened in his childhood but wasn’t real subtle about it. He tried to use Mum to get to me and through me, the Doctor.”

Rose sat up and looked at Martha, direct and confident and certain. “She said she’d told Elton she’d protect us, both of us—me and the Doctor—until the day she died. That’s who she became. Because the Doctor, he doesn’t force you to change, or make you, he makes you _want_ to change. He…”

She paused and frowned, hands vaguely waving as she spoke. “The Doctor sees potential in you. He doesn’t ask just anyone to travel with him.” Rose grinned and Martha laughed in response. “He doesn’t change you, no that’s wrong. He…”

“Makes you reach deep inside yourself and find who you’re supposed to be,” Martha finished for her.

Rose nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!” She laughed and leaned forward just a bit. “And if my mum could change because of the Doctor, yours can, too.”

“My mum’s going to freak,” Martha sighed. She couldn’t even imagine her mum’s reaction. Didn’t want to. “For all intents and purposes all she’ll see is that I dropped out of school; I’m traveling with strangers; I’m sleeping with a guy who’s going to ruin my life and on top of that can never die.”

“You didn’t drop out of school,” Rose pointed out reasonably. “And we’re not strangers. We’re family.”

Martha laughed. Warmed and happy and accepting. “And Jack?”

“Well, it’s true—he’s not going to die for like five billion years.” Rose frowned. “Don’t tell her that. Let him charm your mum.” Rose laughed and stood. “I’ll keep the Doctor away until you and Jack can sort things out with your family. Then everyone can meet us, yeah?”

Martha found herself nodding before she realized she’d agreed. “Yeah. Okay.” She stood and took a deep breath—the scent of jasmine swept over her, fresh and soothing and just what she needed. It was a scent she hadn’t realized often accompanied her around the TARDIS until she’d missed it.

Was it the ship’s way of reassuring her? Martha didn’t know but liked to think so. She ran a hand over the wall to convey her thanks. The TARDIS hummed and the lights flickered ever so subtly in reply.

“Come on,” she told Rose. “Let’s go get breakfast.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose wait for Martha to tell her family about traveling the stars.

Two evenings after Rose’s and Martha’s talk, they were parked across the street from Francine Jones’s house. For the Joneses, it was the day after the debacle with Doctor Lazarus.

Rose didn’t envy Martha, but believed telling her immediate family was the right way to go. And Jack had promised to be there and explain things. And she and the Doctor agreed to answer any other questions.

“You’ll have your mobile?” Martha asked one last time. “I’ll text as soon as they’ve calmed.”

“We’ll be here,” Rose promised.

She didn’t look at the Doctor, who leaned against the console, arms folded over his chest. He hadn’t said anything about Martha’s decision, and she wondered what kept him quiet. He was never quiet. It was unnerving.

“Won’t move from this spot,” the Doctor said now. “Go on, before they decide to break down the doors.”

Rose tried not to laugh at that, but a faint giggle might have escaped her. “You’ll be fine,” she promised Martha.

Backing up until her back hit the Doctor’s front, she felt his hands settle on her waist as they watched Jack take Martha’s hand, squeeze it once, and lead her across the street to The Jones's Family meeting. And dinner. The TARDIS closed the doors automatically, something She’d taken to doing once they’d returned from 1969, and the Doctor tugged her hand until they stood in front of the outside camera screen.

“After this we’ll swing round and pick up Sarah and Luke.” Rose rested her head on the Doctor’s shoulder and watched Martha hesitate. Jack said something to her and Martha nodded, shoulders relaxing visibly as the pair walk off. “Take them to Versailles like we promised.”

And oh, was she proud of herself for not tripping over the words. But Martha was right—it was time to put that episode in the past. Rose had said she and the Doctor worked through that, and they had. With much shouting and arguing and a very insecure breakdown on her part.

But when she’d brought it up to him this time, he’d merely nodded. He’d looked at her as if trying to decide if she was joking with him or testing him, but he’d merely nodded. ( _If that’s what you want, Rose. As always, your wish is my command._ Her heart had flipped in her chest and she may have melted a little at his words. At the look in his eyes—the concern and faint fear and dark need. Then she’d kissed him and felt so at peace with her decision that Rose had wondered why she hadn’t suggested this before. It felt so freeing to do so.)

Was that when his unnatural silence had started? Rose thought back to their whirlwind trip through the galaxies. She hadn’t asked him, but now his lack of conversation, or even a stray comment about Sarah and Luke, worried her. He’d been all _let’s go explore_ and _I need you, Rose._

Not that she was complaining.

But something was wrong. She’d ignored it for a week, convinced he’d talk when he was ready. Now, she almost snorted at her own naivety. The Doctor? Talk without prodding? About important stuff? Ha. She knew better.

“What has you so quiet?” Rose demanded the moment Martha and Jack disappeared from view. He opened his mouth but she cut him off. “And don’t even try to lie. You promised me the truth but I feel like you’re still keeping things from me.”

He ran a hand over his face and through his hair. Rose’s heart clenched and she straightened. Wasn’t sure if she wanted to step closer to him or further. Braced herself nonetheless.

“What?” she whispered, voice thick. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“No!” he said, cupping her chin and looking directly at her. A hint of fear colored the normally fathomless brown of his eyes and her heart clenched again, this time for an entirely different reason and Rose relaxed fractionally.

“No, nothing like that. Nothing’s wrong. I promise you, Rose.”

Slowly she nodded, accepted his response. Still, something nagged at her. “Then what is it?”

The Doctor blew out a breath and looked like he wanted to fidget. Flip switches and dematerialize despite their promise to Martha and Jack. Then he looked down the hall and she didn’t need him to say the words to know he wanted to distract her—food or their bedroom or possibly both.

She shifted, crossed her arms over her chest and waited. “What’s wrong?” The words came out softer than she’d expected. Not so much a demand as a need to know.

Before he could answer, Winston leaped onto the console. Rose automatically picked him up and let their cat snuggled against her, purring and rubbing his face against her neck.

The Doctor cleared his throat and Winston stopped purring. He curled contentedly in her arms and watched the Doctor with a suspicious eye. Rose stifled a grin. Ever since her return, Winston had been very protective of her. She didn’t know what he’d got up to while the four of them had been in 1969, but he looked none the worse for wear when they’d finally got the TARDIS back.

Rose had asked the TARDIS, not that She’d ever given an answer in words, but She’d only replied with a gentle hum of reassurance.

“Are you sure?” the Doctor asked, tearing his gaze from Winston to her.

Rose frowned up at him. “Sure?”

He swallowed hard and carefully took Winston from her grasp. Rose was surprised when the cat didn’t hiss, but then wondered if he somehow knew what the Doctor wanted to discuss. She wouldn’t put it past a cat who traveled in a magnificent time machine to have un-cat-like abilities like telepathy or a connection to the TARDIS or something.

Eyes dark as they held hers, the Doctor took her hands and stepped closer. He didn’t pull her against him, but stood perfectly still. Rose hadn’t often seen him so motionlessness. Usually he was stationary, immobile only after they’d made love, finally at peace. It did nothing to ease her unease.

“Are you certain? Are you sure you want to do this?” He paused but didn’t back away or move. Or possibly breathe. “Are you sure you want to…” he trailed off and looked so adorably concerned and vulnerable and exposed, Rose wanted to wrap him in her arms and never let go.

“Oh,” she said in a rush of relief. She still thought he held something back, more than one concern-fear-worry. But this, this particular fear she could deal with. One thing at a time. Though it was a little worrying he asked her again.

They’d discussed this in 1969, a couple times, and again once they’d returned to the TARDIS. Either he wasn’t certain of her reaction…or he was terrified of his own. Rose guessed the latter and took his hand, doing her best to channel all her love and affection and devotion and need and certainty into their bond.

“You mean the baby?”

“Yes.” His eyes brightened but he remained so uncharacteristically unmoving. “I mean…that is, if you still want...”

“Yes.” Rose grinned. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

His smile was lightning fast and his fingers convulsed around hers, but he otherwise didn’t move. “Are you sure? I mean I know you said…well, you said you wanted to see what you could do. What you wanted to be—what you could be…and Rose.”

He paused again, then said in a rush, “We can wait. We can. Or we don’t have to at all if you don’t want to. I mean—”

She kissed him. She’d never really thought of it as a way to quiet him, though she was amazed she hadn’t before. But they’d always been so careful about their relationship outside the TARDIS she’d never taken the initiative. Had always followed his lead when it came to restraining themselves around others and, other than hand holding and relieved-you’re alive hugs, hadn’t shown blatant public displays of affection.

Rose took the step separating them and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulled him closer, and kissed him. Not a hard and hungry kiss, as he’d used to wake her this morning. But a soft, gentle caress of her lips against his. His hands settled on her hips, pulling her just that much closer to him, and her body molded to his automatically.

A perfect fit.

“Yes. I’m not going to lie,” she told him, forehead pressed briefly to his.

Hope.  
Fear.  
Promise.  
Love.  
It shone brightly through their bond and wound around them and through them and she shivered at the feel.

Rose leaned back and caught his gaze. Excited and scared and hopeful and oh so tender. God, she loved this man.

“I don’t know who I am any more. I don’t know what or who I want to be. But I do know I don’t want to put this off, yeah? I don’t,” she paused and swallowed her own fear and insecurities. “I don’t want to wait.”

Because waiting only lead to heartbreak. Waiting led to Daleks and regeneration. And more Daleks and Torchwood and walls so blinding white and solid. To cold, desolate beaches and a hollow loneliness that gutted her and left her sobbing and broken.

“What are you afraid of?” she asked quickly.

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t want you to realize you can do so much better than me. Or that I’d make a lousy father. I was rubbish last time, you know that.”

“I know you _think_ you were,” Rose corrected.

She’d had years to come to terms with the fact that they’d been sleeping together for ages before he’d dropped that little bomb on her—a family, children he’d never mentioned, his granddaughter.

He was a man of many things. Baring his soul? Not so much.

“Rose,” he started, exasperated, then sighed. “I don’t want to…”

The Doctor trailed off but she knew him so well. Maybe not as well as she’d like—all his hopes and dreams and nightmares and friends and enemies and previous lovers and who he was in each regeneration. But Rose knew him well enough to know his own insecurities.

He didn’t want to start this, get his hopes up, only to have her change her mind.

“I never have and never will regret a moment with you.” Rose framed his face with her hands and made sure to hold his gaze. She wanted to give him no reason to doubt her answer. “Ever, Doctor. I love you. I want my life to be with you. No,” she quickly amended. “I want _our_ lives to be together. Is that what you want?”

Her heart raced and Rose couldn’t believe, that after everything they’d been through, all they’d fought to overcome, all the fights they’d had to overcome, she still held her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Yes,” he groaned and kissed her. Consuming and soft, Rose swore she felt every nuance of his love for her in that kiss. He pressed her against the console, lean body to hers, hands holding her so tenderly, so securely, she knew he’d never let go.

When she pulled back, she waited with a warmth that continued to spread and sweep across her, through her, warming her until Rose swore the Doctor somehow intensified their bond.

“I can’t lose you,” he admitted.

“Were you planning on it?” Rose asked, but instead of the joke she aimed for, it was a soft smile and a brush of her fingers over his cheek.

He would eventually, and honestly the fact he seemed to still embrace this relationship with her shocked Rose. For the first year they were together, she’d always expected him to pull back—especially after that whole _I don’t age_ speech. But she wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth so to speak. 

“So,” she said with a grin and a deliberate change in subject, “how long will this DNA tweak take?”

Certainty settled around her heart and Rose felt such a feeling of conviction-faith-belief she wanted to reach out with body and mind and soul and share it with the Doctor.

“An hour.” He shrugged. But he didn’t let her go. “You humans are compatible with everyone. It’s why you spread across all of the cosmos. I bet there’s some form of humanity still alive at the end of the universe.”

He grinned, that bright, happy smile she’d first seen when they’d been about to leave Earth for a new adventure with a new Doctor.

“But not with you?” she asked sadly.

Was this why he’d asked again? Why he seemed to want to check and double and triple check her answer? 

“We’re not naturally compatible with Time Lords?” She swallowed and the gravity of what he’d said to her when they’d first made love caught her in its icy grip. “You said, the first time we made love, you said I didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”

She licked her lips and tried for levity but couldn’t. Not now. At the time, and later once they’d briefly discussed it, the Doctor had promised her that it was possible—he was a genius and when they were ready, if they were ready, it could happen.

“I didn’t have to worry,” she said now, “because it wasn’t even possible. We couldn’t.”

That explained the look of loss in his blue gaze, so quickly covered up. Back then, Rose hadn’t been secure enough in herself, let alone their relationship, to ask what had been wrong. Why he’d looked bereft. The loss in his face, etched so deeply around eyes she loved, a mouth she adored, had haunted her.

Still did.

“I’m compatible with every other creature in the universe…except you.” Rose swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “Except the one man I want to be compatible with.”

“It’s not like that.” His hands framed her face, voice so soft and open and heartbreakingly sincere. “Rose, you mustn’t think that. It’s not your fault. It’s not _humanity’s_ fault.”

The Doctor sighed, and her heart hurt at the sound. He looked at her so seriously, so lovingly and tenderly and honestly when he spoke. She wanted to kiss him again, to pour out her love and affection and understanding and hope it was enough.

“Not because of you or anything—Rose, it’s us.” He stopped. Swallowed. “Me. We were loomed—natural procreation was impossible when I was, ah, born. Time Lords were sterile because of a curse. I put a stop to that.”

Rose laughed, a soft sound, and interrupted him. “Of course you did.” She pressed her lips briefly to his.

Winston meowed and she scooped him back into her arms. Leaning against the console, she stroked the cat and watched her lover. Kept the cat close, warm and loving and safe. Winston never asked for more than affection and food. Hell, Rose had never had to even clean out a litter box—the TARDIS took care of that. So Rose kept Winston between her and the Doctor, not as a shield, not really…but close.

And she couldn’t even tell herself why.

The Doctor stood before her, mere inches away, and grinned back. It momentarily lightened his eyes, but Rose could still see the worry in them. Swallowing, she reached out and took his hand. The contact lessened the conflicting emotions whirling within her and she relaxed.

“Anyway, once the curse was lifted, we could have children naturally again but by then it didn’t matter.” He sighed and reached out, fingers scratching Winston’s head.

The cat purred and stretched in her arms, but Rose doubted the Doctor realized what he was even doing. Winston seemed to and kept unnaturally still.

“We were genetically bred, you might say. Bred until we were superior to all other beings in the universe. And compatible only with other Gallifreyans.”

“Little elitist there, eh?” she asked. Rose softened her words with a smile, but the Doctor laughed—lighter than she thought with his memories darkening his eyes.

“A little,” he agreed. “Superior and all. It caused quite the scandal when Andred married Leela. They had a child, the first born on Gallifrey in millennia.” He paused and sighed with a slightly nostalgic smile. “But Leela was a Sevateem, and they were already genetically altered. I don’t know if she and Andred did any more genetic manipulation to conceive.”

Rose nodded. He’d mentioned Leela a couple times before; nothing so in depth as this, certainly not that she’d married a Time Lord (Gallifreyan? Was there a difference? Still so much she didn’t know about him.) but at least she was familiar with the name.

“But I want you to know: It’s not you.” He watched her intently, and Rose wondered if he tried to convey something else other than what his words said. “Not many dared to cavort with lesser beings, let alone have children with them.”

She nodded. Dared to? Interesting choice of words and Rose wondered about that. “And the tweaks to my DNA? Does that make me more like you?”

“Yes and no.”

He cupped her face again and looked at her so carefully Rose knew he could read every thought and feeling and want and desire she’d ever had. He licked his lips and she followed the movement, wanting to taste those lips. She blinked, but her distraction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Grinning unrepentantly up at him, tongue just peeking out of the corner of her mouth to drive him crazy, she nodded. “Go on.”

The Doctor breathed in and opened his mouth.

“In 400 words or less,” she added and set Winston back on the grating where he meowed and stalked off.

“Why 400 words?” the Doctor asked, confused.

“Because I don’t know when Martha’s going to text and I want to kiss you.”

He mouthed a silent _oh_ and nodded, eyes on her mouth for a very long moment. Then he blinked and grinned. Pinning her to the console, hands on either side of her hips, he leaned in and trailed his mouth along her jaw. Aware of every press of his body, every caress of his (very impressive) mind against hers, Rose arched into him.

It’d been ages since they’d shagged against the console. This was the first time they’d been alone in the TARDIS since her return.

“Tweaking your DNA isn’t the problem,” he began, breath the faintest of caresses against her skin. His mind wrapped around hers and she shuddered at the erotic feel of it. “Humans have been doing that since the 21st century. Oh, advances have been made since then, but it’s simple.”

His teeth nipped down her neck and Rose moaned, fingers combing through his hair. She settled herself more firmly on the console, vaguely aware of the TARDIS powering down. Just in case. Rose sent a silent thank you-sorry-you’re–the-best-TARDIS-who-ever-lived caress to the ship.

No need to repeat that time with the wrongly pushed buttons and blaring claxons and near heart (or hearts) failure in the middle of a we-saved-the-world and Rose’s-face-is-back-where-it-belongs shag.

“It’s the calculations,” the Doctor continued, “so that we’re compatible that take time. I can tweak one of your eggs, but I want to make sure you’re completely able to carry a child. _Our child_ ,” he breathed against her mouth and Rose heard the awe in those words. “When we do this, love, you’ll be tired for a couple days after as your body adjusts. Nothing to worry about—just your body adapting to the changes. I need to get rid of some of your junk DNA so it doesn’t interfere with the fetus and I’ll need to run tests after you’ve recovered.”

Rose was about to ask a question—how long would this take? What else was involved in carrying his child? And she was sure she had more—when his mouth covered hers. She was positive his answer wasn’t anywhere near the 400 words she’d allotted, but with his body pressing so deliciously into hers and his hands slipping beneath her bum to widen her stance and lift her against him and his mouth taking and taking and taking, she didn’t care.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked against him. “Doctor,” she began.

And her phone beeped. Really, she should’ve expected that. Groaning, she leaned back. The Doctor followed her, nipping at her collarbone, her pounding pulse point.

“It’s Martha,” Rose gasped.

Reluctantly pulling back, he looked down at her but didn’t release her. “Are you sure, Rose?” he asked.

“That it’s Martha?” she asked, flushed and aroused and so very tempted to ignore the text and have a quickie against the console. But she’d promised.

“About the baby,” he clarified and Rose wondered why he kept asking her. “Doing this, these DNA changes, it’s going to change you. Now I know what I’m doing, so you won’t end up a giant scorpion like that crazy Lazarus guy. But it’s still fundamentally changing your genetic makeup.”

Ah. Slowly she nodded.

“Yes,” she said, sliding her body down his. They’d talk about this later. “Oh, yes, I’m sure.” Her hand rested on his cheek and she ran her thumb over his cheekbone, across his freckles. “You can explain it to me until my eyes cross. But you know I trust you, Doctor. And I’m sure.”

The Doctor nodded and grinned widely. “Good! I still have 289 words left in my explanation.”

He paused and looked over her shoulder at the message from Martha. Rose swallowed hard, not at the idea of having a baby but at the change about to occur in her life. Both their lives.

Mother.  
Lover.  
Doctor’s…  
Rose Tyler.  
Who are you, Rose Tyler?

_Things are looking OK. Safe to come inside._

“Technically, 288 but I didn’t count love in my explanation,” he continued.

Laughing, Rose shook her head at his words to dispel her own lingering questions and sent Martha a quick reply. Slipping the mobile into her back pocket, she took the Doctor’s hand. “Oh, yes, I’m sure.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they meet Martha's family...

Jack stared at Francine and wondered if he’d just been made part of the family. She smiled at him, all welcoming if a bit disbelieving, but the look in her eyes told a different story. He didn’t know what to expect but he’d lived a long time—he was prepared for anything.

Except, perhaps, meeting the family. Was anyone really prepared for that?

“And you’ve been studying?” Francine asked Martha. Again.

If possible, Martha’s shoulders tensed even more. Jack draped his arm over the back of her chair and rubbed the back of her neck in an attempt to alleviate some of the strain that gathered there.

Francine’s gaze rested on Jack and she seemed to be reluctant to look at her daughter. A shiver of unease slithered up his spine. He’d been blamed for plenty of things in his live, some he’d done some he hadn’t, but the way Francine Jones looked at him, Jack wondered if she blamed him for everything.

Up to and including Martha’s choices.

“Of course, mum.” Martha answered. For the third time. Her voice was brittle, harder now than it’d been when they first arrived. 

The Doctor and Rose sat next to each other on the other side of the table around the remains of a family meal. He and Martha sat together, and Jack had the uneasy feeling the four of them were caught quite literally in the middle of some sort of tug of war.

Clive and Leo on the left.  
Francine and Tish on the right.  
Martha and he in the middle.  
He didn’t like it.

“And you, Doctor,” Clive cut in.

Jack tried not to grin at the caught look in the Doctor’s eyes, the blush coloring Rose’s cheeks What had he been doing to suddenly look like that? He’d have to ask Rose later.

“What’s your role in all this?” Clive asked.

Dinner was now officially over. Tish and Leo sat quietly and watched raptly at their grilling. Martha squirmed beside him, tense and anxious and so ramrod straight he was afraid she’d snap. Worse, afraid that it wasn’t a matter of _if_ but of _when_ she’d snap.

Jack’s gaze swept the table again, and he moved his hand to Martha’s other shoulder, gently massaging the tightness there. He had to wonder when the last time the Jones family had sat around the same dinner table.

“Role?” the Doctor repeated. He looked at Rose, confused. “What do you mean, role?”

“What are you to Martha?” Clive clarified.

“Her friend,” the Doctor said, still confused. “What else would I be?”

“What kind of doctor are you?” Francine asked, that sharp tone not abating.

Whatever had caused Clive and Francine to divorce, they certainly worked an interrogation well.

Jack tried not to look at the Doctor. They all clearly heard the disdain in Francine’s voice and the obvious little ‘d’ in Doctor.

“I told you, mum,” Martha sighed, exasperated, annoyed, and so close to breaking-cracking-shattering. 

Jack squeezed her hand. She’d been nervous going into the house. The cross-examination from her family hadn’t helped.

“He’s the Doctor—he knows all sorts of things.” Martha took a deep breath but her voice remained strong if a little brittle. “I’m traveling with him to learn and explore.”

“I asked him,” Francine said in that same sharp voice.

“Yes, and you’ve asked me three times now!” Martha snapped. Broke. Cracked. Exploded.

Clearly she’d had enough. Jack looked at her in surprise. And pride. Oh, his woman certainly knew how to stand up for herself. She’d told him a little about her family, how she hadn’t fit in, always felt left out and uneasy around them. But now, seeing her glaring around the table, shoulders straight, head held high, he’d never seen her look more beautiful.

“I told you the truth. You know,” she continued, standing now and scowling. “I didn’t want to. I wanted something to myself, for myself. I wanted to explore and learn and see what’s out there. And I was never, ever going to tell any of you. Ever,” she added in the stunned silence of the dining room.

“I knew you’d react like this, as if what I’m doing was wrong or dirty, or I don’t even know what!” Her glare swung from Francine to Clive and back again. Leo looked down at his empty plate uncomfortably and Tish flushed in embarrassment.

“I only told you,” Martha continued, “because we were trapped in 1969 for months— _months!_ —and I didn’t know when we’d return. I didn’t want to disappear and no one ever know what happened to me.”

She took a deep breath and turned to him. Jack smiled up at her and stood, clasping her hand in his. She nodded at him, glanced across the table at Rose and the Doctor who both smiled in return, in encouragement and pride.

“What you really want to know is if I’m sleeping with Jack.” Martha nodded. “I am. You want to know what I’ve seen?” Again, her gaze swung from one stunned family member to the next, forcing them to meet her gaze.

“I’ve seen galaxies being born and stars dying; I’ve met Shakespeare; I’ve saved people’s lives and learned so much about other species’ medicine. I’ve captured lizard-y egg traffickers in the sewers of London and helped free thousands of people from a futuristic version of a traffic jam on a dying planet.”

Martha stopped and took a deep breath. She strived for calm but her body vibrated with tension and anger. Her voice all but shouted it for all she tried to keep her tone even. “But all you want to know is if I’m studying. Who my friends are. There’s more to my life than that! There’s more to me than that. Why can’t any of you see it?”

She turned to him, and his heart broke at the tears in her eyes. Without a word, Martha spun around and left the table. Jack didn’t follow; he wanted to, but he had something to say to the Jones family, first.

“Maybe,” he said in his best authoritative voice. Gone was his normal jovial demeanor. He didn’t like it when Martha was hurt. Especially by her own family.

“Maybe, you should remember that Martha’s her own person. She’s not on anyone’s side; she’s not a girl to be manipulated.” Jack looked at each member of the Jones family as he spoke. Francine met his gaze defiantly, but everyone else looked ashamed. “She’s a grown woman; one of the most compassionate, generous, dedicated people I’ve ever met. Maybe we shouldn’t have insisted she tell you. Maybe that was a mistake.”

Francine stood, looking righteously indignant and furious.

“ _Sit._ ” The Doctor commanded.

Francine’s hard, angry gaze moved from Jack to the Doctor, who hadn’t moved. “Sit down, Francine. And listen,” the Doctor said in a hard, quiet voice that ordered and demanded and still held understanding.

Francine Jones sat.

“Maybe,” Jack added as he turned to find Martha, “it’s time you saw Martha for the fantastic woman she is and not the girl you dismiss if she doesn’t have the nerve to fit into your own little world.”

Behind him, he heard Rose tell the stunned family about her own mother’s reaction. He hated that her own family hadn’t listened to Martha, but if anyone could convince them to understand and accept her choices, it was Rose.

“I don’t hear shouting,” Martha said. She stood in the back garden, a small area with just-blooming flowers. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and she shivered slightly. Jack shrugged out of the coat he’d put on out of habit more than any other reason and slipped it over her shoulders.

“Are they stunned into silence? Martha finally has her say, finally stands up for herself—I’ve shocked them all into silence. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Jack turned her and tilted her chin so she looked up at him. She hadn’t been crying, and the band tightening his chest eased slightly. He never wanted to see her cry. “Rose is talking to them. Telling them about her own experience. They love you, Martha. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t care what you did or where you went.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or who you did.”

She rolled her eyes at that last but didn’t pull away or offer a retort to his suggestions. Still fragile, still hurting. Jack wrapped his arms around her even as she shrugged. “I guess.” And her voice caught.

Pulling her tight to him, Jack heard her breath hitch and held her. Simply held her. “They’ll come around,” he promised.

“Why do I feel guilty?” she asked. Her voice was thick, but she didn’t cry. He wanted to tell her it was okay to cry, but knew she’d never let go. Not while she was still here, in viewing—and shouting—distance of her family.

They had been stunned into silence. Martha had been right about that—they never expected her to stand up for herself. Jack wondered if they knew how much she needed their approval or understanding maybe. How much it meant to her and how much their obvious lack of it hurt.

“Why do I feel guilty that I didn’t want to tell them?” Martha took in a shuddering breath. “Why do I feel guilty for enjoying my time traveling with you and the Doctor and Rose? Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t,” Jack assured her.

The back door opened and he turned his head just enough to see Francine and Clive exit. It was, he figured, the first time they’d done anything together since the divorce. Good. They should do this. For themselves as well as for Martha. Most especially for Martha.

“Listen to what they say. Maybe they’ll finally understand. Traveling like this?” Jack shook his head and grinned down at her. “It’s not for everyone. Very few get to experience it and even fewer understand.”

“Stay with me?” she asked, then cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She straightened, some, a very little, of the tension tightening her shoulders lessened and Jack liked to think he had something to do with that.

“Of course,” he whispered. Martha nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“The assembled hoards of Genghis Khan couldn’t drag me away,” Jack promised. 

****  
Rose hadn’t felt this drained after her own admission to her mother. Something about Francine Jones took all her concentration, all her patience, all her understanding.

Standing in the TARDIS kitchen, she stared blankly out of the window and the unchanging Gallifreyan landscape. If she’d had the energy, Rose might’ve run through that dry desert, beneath the double suns and across the hot sand until she reached the Cadonflood River. But though restless energy beat through her, Rose was entirely too tired to do more than think about running.

( _I wish you could’ve seen it, Rose,_ he’d told her after she’d very easily convinced the TARDIS to create this kitchen for him. His blue eyes tore from the view to look at her, bright and energetic and at peace for the first time since meeting him. She felt like the absolute center of his universe. _I used to run across the plains, through the fields, up the mountain. As long as I was outside._ )

She’d run with the Doctor (a hand to hold no matter what, she’d promised) and make love to him along the river’s banks. Feel the heat of the twin suns, the cool water over her naked skin, the Doctor moving against her.

Maybe she’d talk the TARDIS into a room like that; She hadn’t one, so far as Rose knew. Maybe, if she held the Doctor’s hand as they explored Gallifrey, he’d accept it. Wouldn’t run from it. Would let the demons he still carried go. If only a little.

Right now, however, all Rose wanted to do was curl up in their bed and sleep. Her lover’s solid presence behind her, his arm holding her close to him, the warm hum of the TARDIS surrounding them.

But Martha had been restless _and_ energetic, and had ended up in the kitchen. Rose had followed her. Her friend was hurting. Despite the fact her family had come round (Leo thought the TARDIS was coolness personified and Tish just shrugged and said whatever Martha did was fine with her) Martha still hurt.

“Why couldn’t they have just accepted what I told them?” Martha asked into the silence of the room.

She hadn’t spoken since returning to the TARDIS even though Rose knew Jack had tried to convince her to go directly to their rooms—or the library, the pool, the game room, any place. He’d wanted to comfort her—that had been clear as day. Martha hadn’t seemed to want that comfort. Or his comfort. Rose knew Martha’s rejection hurt Jack. But she did look as if she wanted to talk.

She looked restless. And Rose knew all about that.

“I don’t know,” Rose admitted. “Jealousy? When I left with the Doctor the second time, after mum knew and we saved the world from the Slitheen, they didn’t understand. Mickey didn’t want to travel with us and mum didn’t know why I couldn’t, didn’t want to, stay on the Estate and go back to a life I hated.”

“Did she know you hated it?”

“Yes,” Rose said slowly. “I think so. She wanted me to get the job at first, it was better than any of the opportunities she’d had. But then she’d always go on and on about airs and graces. I think she was torn between wanting me to have a better life than she had and jealous that I had the chance to actually do so.”

“Did you plan on it? Going back?” Martha asked. “Did you plan to pick up where you left off? Once you were done traveling with the Doctor, did you plan to return home and do, I don’t know, whatever?”

Rose stopped and leaned against the counter. Her untouched mug of tea sat beside her, but she didn’t want it. Had made it more out of something to do than a need for tea. Now, she picked it up and sipped the lukewarm brew.

“I don’t know,” Rose admitted. “I never thought about it. At first, it was an adventure. Exploring new places and people and learning and just seeing. Helping where we could. Then it was…”

She trailed off, unable to help the smile. Then she’d wanted the Doctor. She’d loved him for so long, and yet Rose couldn’t pinpoint the moment when she’d fallen so irrevocably in love with him she couldn’t imagine leaving him.

“I knew I’d never go back to working in a shop. I couldn’t; hated it the first time, couldn’t imagine doing it again.”

( _I’m back working in the shop,_ she lied, not sure why, not with so little time, the last things she’d say to him was a lie. _Oh, good for you._ Disbelief and understanding if that was what she wanted and Rose almost leaped into his arms and kissed him to show she was joking as she’d normally do. Couldn’t. No touching. Never again. How to breathe? How to ever breathe again? _Shut up. No, I’m not. There’s still a Torchwood on this planet. It’s open for business. I think I know a thing or two about aliens._ )

“But you have a plan, Martha. A life you want.” Rose smiled and hoped her friend understood what she had trouble putting into words. “Do you want to stay with us? Keep traveling?”

“I want to stay for now,” Martha admitted. “I want to…” her smile was sly and knowing, and she chuckled. “Help you through your pregnancy and have that kid know Auntie Martha is the favorite.”

Rose laughed. Warmth and joy and understanding and contentment. “I’d love that,” she admitted softly.

Martha cleared her throat and shrugged. “I don’t know what I want. And I’m tired of trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Rose agreed. “I hear ya.” She sighed then straightened and smiled. “Let’s go to a spa. A little vacation, a little pampering. I’m sure the TARDIS could recommend a couple places.”

The ship in question brightened and dimmed the lights in agreement; Her hum changed just enough to let them know She’d make a list for them to choose from _and_ make sure they arrived where and when they chose.

Martha brightened and seemed a little less tired, a little less depressed. “A spa. Yes. I like the sound of that.” 

“We’ll pick up Sarah and Luke, go see the Gardens of Versailles,” Rose said and was so proud of herself for feeling anticipation over that trip rather than simply a determination to make it through a visit. “Then we’ll go to the spa. Kick the men out for a couple days and have a little girl time. What do you say?”

Martha laughed. “I say you’re a genius, Rose Tyler!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we go to the gardens of France...

Sarah Jane Smith had seen hundreds of wonders in the universe. She’d seen the future, the past, terrible creatures and marvelous creations. She’d managed to survive said wonders, a life with the always running Doctor, _and_ a life after him.

She’d never seen anything like she did when Luke’s eyes widened with amazement when the Doctor landed them in France.

For a terrible and painful heartbeat, as the TARDIS did Her thing, Sarah questioned if she made the right choice, if she should’ve taken the Doctor up on his offer to travel with them. She still so clearly remembered the giddy anticipation, the instinctual _yes!_ that so often beat through her in time to her pounding heart whenever the TARDIS dematerialized and they found themselves someplace new and fascinating.

She could show Luke so many wonders of the universe instead of the horrors of those beings who only wanted Earth for profit and greed and hatred.

The way Rose had all but forced the Doctor to do it, to ask her had somehow made Sarah want to say yes all the more. But, no. After her initial _Oh yes!_ feeling, Sarah realized it was time to let go. And if she’d gone with Rose and the Doctor, she’d never have

Found Luke.  
Realized her life was here.  
Understood why the Doctor never said goodbye.  
Understood why the Doctor never returned once he’d left.  
Found a peace she’d thought she’d never have.

Currently, she walked with Luke, Jack, and Martha as they explored Monet’s gardens at Giverny. Rose and the Doctor walked hand-in-hand ahead of them talking quietly.

She’d never seen the Doctor so still, either. Oh, each regeneration was different, she knew that. Had lived through it and had seen it with this new man. But this one, this particular man was full of energy and life. He did everything so passionately—lived and loved and even grieved.

But now he _meandered_ along the garden with Rose, taking his time and exploring instead of rushing through to see the next sight, jump into the next adventure.

She hadn’t seen it the first time she’d met Rose, she’d been too full of bitterness and anger and yes. Jealousy. Sarah had wanted what Rose had—wanted to be the one racing around the universe with the Doctor, wanted her place in the TARDIS, wanted to feel that rush every time they landed.

But after everything—Canary Wharf and the separation _(I’ve lost her, Sarah. What am I going to do?)_ and Rose’s return ( _He was so broken_ , Sarah had said as she and Rose had tea, as she’d got to know Martha, as Rose seemed to itch to see, touch, feel the Doctor again. _I’ve never heard him as adrift as when he lost you._ ) —the Doctor seemed different.

More at peace than she’d ever seen him.

It still amazed her that the jealousy she’d felt at their first meeting had vanished. Gone in the face of Rose’s stubborn brilliance to the man and the Doctor’s unwavering devotion to the woman.

Whatever Sarah had once felt for the Doctor paled to what Rose felt for him. And whatever he’d felt for her, still felt, was a fraction of the palatable need the Doctor felt for Rose. Once she’d accepted that, it hadn’t taken Sarah long to see the differences, to accept them, and to realize that sometimes, it wasn’t you who made the difference.

And that was okay, too.

Now, as they walked along the flowers, Sarah smiled at the couple as Luke read the guidebook.

No, even with the years she’d spent on her own, yearning for the past and hoping for the future, Sarah would never, ever change a moment of it.

“Did you ever meet Monet?” Luke asked, looking up from the book to stare at her.

About to answer, she saw a couple walk by and laughed. “I’m not that old, Luke.” The pair chuckled and Sarah waited until they’d gone before answering. “No, I didn’t. Which is strange, the Doctor is always going on about musicians he helped or artists he guided. Would you want to meet him?”

Sarah squinted at her son in curiosity. He’d never expressed interest in meeting famous artists before, but then he’d never really had the opportunity to do so, either. Luke loved working with her and Mr. Smith, aliens, threats, science, technology was all fine with him. Claude Monet? Didn’t seem his sort of interest.

She let Luke quiz Martha and Jack about who they met (he rolled his eyes at Martha’s Shakespeare story but perked up at the bit about the witches) and wondered if this was always supposed to happen. When she’d seen the Doctor again at that school, it’d been the impetus to move her life forward. Not in her investigating, not in her reporting, but her personal life.

Then later, when he and Rose had visited before, she saw him as more than a fantastical man in a mad and wonderful time machine.

She saw him as a man. A normal man in love.

And now? Now, as Luke’s laughter echoed across the gardens, Sarah knew she wanted to share all of her adventures, all of the madness and discovery and yes even the danger with Luke. Suddenly, she realized she didn’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.

She had family.  
A wild, crazy, definitely nonlinear, non-traditional family.  
And she was going to grasp it and hold onto it with both hands.

“So, Martha, you never said—how’d your parents take hearing about the Doctor?” Sarah asked as Jack and Luke wandered off.

Should she be worried? Jack was certainly a charmer and Sarah suspected his stories told only half of what he had truly gotten up to. And Luke was so young, so naïve on many things. Maybe she should be worried; but if she couldn’t trust either Jack or her son in a place as innocuous as Monet’s Gardens, when and where could she?

“I have to admit,” she added, “you’re braver than I ever was.”

“Oh.” Martha laughed. It wasn’t as bitter as Sarah expected given Martha’s initial reluctance. “They’re still coming to terms. But I don’t think they really believe me. Even after the Doctor gave them a quick tour and dematerialized the TARDIS in my mum’s garden.”

Sarah laughed and listened as Martha told her about dinner with the Jones’s. After Martha finished, Sarah nodded.

“I can speak with them if you like. Add my not inconsiderable voice,” she said with a grin, “to your story.”

“Thanks,” Martha said softly. “I’d really like that.”

****  
“What made you change your mind?” the Doctor asked as he and Rose wandered away from the group.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with them, but now that they were in the Gardens of Versailles (or Giverny—Versailles was next assuming this all was all right with Rose), he needed to know that they’d truly put the past behind them.

“Martha,” Rose said and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The slowly walked hand-in-hand along the path around the house. They’d already toured inside, with the Doctor easily slipping them away to give his own tour. Now, they continued around the gardens and toward the Water Garden. The day was sunny and bright and a faint breeze blew through the flowers.

He breathed deeply of the myriad scents and let them flow around him. Let them, and Rose’s warm body, the soft touch of her mind he didn’t think she even knew always reached for and brushed against his, relax him. It very nearly almost worked.

The strange overlying timelines had been making him dizzy and unfocused more and more lately and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them. He hadn’t said anything to Rose, but knew he’d have to sooner rather than never.

Later. He meant later…sooner rather than _later_.

But he didn’t like what those overlapping ripples meant and was determined to keep Rose with him no matter what he had to do to accomplish that.

He’d lost her once and hadn’t ripped apart the multiverse to bring her back to him. If fate or destiny or god or the Eternals or the very fabric of the universe itself tried to take her again, the Doctor knew he wouldn’t be so kind-understanding- _sane_. He’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. With him. Always.

“It’s time, yeah?” Rose continued, bringing his thoughts back to their present conversation. “I’m tired of holding onto all that, that anger. We moved past it. And I love the gardens.”

He felt her anxious wariness, her nerves and willingness to let things go. But all he did was squeezed her hand in silent reassurance. “Good.”

Oh, he had other things to say—another apology she’d already heard. A rambling explanation of things he’d already tried to explain. Of fears and doubts and worries for them and their future and, well, him.

Maybe (probably not) admit his greatest fears.

That she’d hate him.  
That she’d hate their mostly Gallifreyan child.  
That she’d blame him for all the things he already blamed himself for.

That she’d finally realize he was so unworthy of her love.

He could all but hear the Time Lords’ disapproval from beyond the grave. Their voices whispering from the time lock about the superiority and preeminence of Gallifrey and Time Lords and what was now his burden to carry.

_How dare you cavort with a human?  
How dare you love her?  
How dare you dare to create a future with her?  
How dare you even think of bringing such an abomination into this universe?  
How dare you think a tainted child would ever be worthy of being called Time Lord?  
How dare you…  
How dare you…  
How dare…_

He could tell Rose all about his fear of loss—losing her, life without her, life without her love and life and compassion and joy. Maybe finally admit just how far he’d fallen; finally admit the dark truth about the Christmas after he’d lost her. How much Donna truly had helped him to **stop**.

But she probably already knew even without him saying everything. Rose seemed to always instinctually know when he hid and what he hid and knew how to draw him out just when the time was right.

But now, with Sarah and Luke behind them, with Jack and Martha’s laughter echoing along the paths, the Doctor thumbed his nose at those voices, at his fear and his reservations, and he dared. Those whispering voices were silenced by the certainty of Rose. By Rose’s certainty in him and in them.

“All right,” he agreed. In one move, he flicked his hand over a vibrant yellow cattleya orchid, plucked it from the garden, and handed it to her.

She gasped at his gift and laughed, the sound light and free as she held the bloom to her face and breathed deep. Grinning up at him, Rose slipped it into his pocket and retook his hand. She didn’t know what it meant, and the Doctor smiled to himself; he’d tell her later. He promised himself he’d tell her later. Vowed to himself even.

This was right. Now was the time.

He hadn’t known what he’d been waiting for until it was here.

“But I’m not naming our first born _Garden_ ,” he added as they resumed walking.

Rose turned sharply. Her eyes darkened, first with oh yes-love-I want you…then to sadness-distance-melancholy. “No,” she agreed quietly. “Or _Flower_ ,” she tried to joke but her voice cracked.

They walked around the house for a couple more minutes in silence, but she said no more. The Doctor looked over his shoulder and caught Jack’s eye. The other man raised an eyebrow and the Doctor jerked his toward the outside path that led to The Water Garden. Jack glanced to Rose then back to the Doctor and nodded.

The Doctor heard Jack’s boisterous laugh as he turned Martha and Sarah and Luke in the opposite direction. He didn’t think either woman was fooled. And a part of him, the part that realized keeping Rose all to himself for the rest of her life was obsessive, possibly crazy and definitely borderline psychotic, was glad she had friends to talk with.

That Sarah and she got on so well and that she and Martha were absolutely inseparable when they wanted to be.

“What is it, Rose?” he asked.

A hundred questions tumbled around his brain but he kept quiet. They’d discussed this at length and he knew how she felt about the next step in their relationship. But still old fears and insecurities surfaced.

Rose deserved so much better than him.

It all boiled down to that one statement. He didn’t deserve her love and affection and her smiles and her compassion and her understanding. Even now, knowing he’d never be able to give her up, let her go, the Doctor knew she deserved so much more than he could give her.

“Nothing,” she said, breaking into the downward spiral of his thoughts. “I just miss mum. And Pete and Tony and Mickey.” She swallowed but didn’t look at him, didn’t raise her head. He heard the loss and tears and grief in her voice.

“I don’t think I ever told you,” she began softly. “I was here and the jumper broke, and then it was explanations, and Jack, and getting to know Martha, and you and me finding each other again. I guess it slipped my mind. Or I wanted to ignore it since it couldn’t happen.”

Rose paused and he heard the shuddering breath she took on, her fingers convulsing on his; heard the increase of her heartbeat and the nerves in her voice. The Doctor stopped and tilted her chin so she looked at him. He brushed his fingertips under first one eye then the other, but her tears never fell.

She smiled up at him, fingers tightening on the hand she still held. That absent brush of her mind against his flared to life and he instinctually opened to her, reached out and embraced her.

“I was supposed to be able to contact them,” she admitted in a clearer voice. Rose nodded and tugged his hand to resume their walk.

“My phone was supposed to get a signal through the cracks in the universe and I was supposed to let them know I was safe. That…” she trailed off and he heard the smile. “That I found you.”

“Your phone wouldn’t get a signal,” he said with a frown. Something about that bothered him. “Not through the Void. That’d be…”

Impossible.  
As impossible as you finding me on your first jump.  
As Jack just happening to be in New York at the same time.

“We checked,” he added, filing this away with all the other impossible coincidences. “The TARDIS ran scans, is still running them.” Her fingers tightened around his and he looked down at Rose.

“Rose,” he promised, “I’ll refine the scan. If there’s a way to contact them, I’ll find it.” He shook it off but made a mental note to look into that later. Cracks through the Void…

The Doctor cleared his throat as another thought crashed through him. His hearts stuttered and it hurt to breathe, but he forced the words through, anyway.

“Jackie knew what you were doing,” he began.

He’d sent her away that last time, desperate to believe she’d be safe and happy in that other universe. Safe and happy with her family and with Mickey. Maybe not happy. But safe.

All he ever wanted was for her to be safe. Alive.

All right—all he’d ever wanted was her. He wanted her so badly, so desperately; wanted her to the exclusion of all else, wanted her to distraction, and he constantly took a step back. Took a step away and tried to be rational and reasonable and…

It rarely worked.

If he was going for honesty, he’d better start with himself.

“I know,” Rose was saying now. “And I’m happy here.” She squeezed his hand and the Doctor swore he felt her love-affection-need-want-heart-soul caress him. Such strong emotions made his hearts skip, this time in relief.

“But I miss her. All of them.”

“Oh, Rose,” he sighed.

He didn’t know what to say. He’d offer to find a way to send her back, but the words stuck in his throat. No. He couldn’t. Not that. Never that. Or maybe he could try and find a crack and get a message. Find another sun in the middle of dying and use it—

“Stop it.” Her voice was sharp and angry. “I’m not leaving you.”

Rose looked up at him, fierce and annoyed but behind her hazel eyes he saw (felt a caress, wrapped in her love) understanding.

“I told you how many times?” she demanded, a hint of annoyance, a lot of understanding. “I’m not leaving you so finally get it through your thick Time Lord skull, yeah? Mum knew what I was doing. She had a second chance at love with Pete and grabbed it.”

“This is our second chance,” he whispered.

( _You were left on your own. You didn’t marry again, or…_ Pete trailed off. _There was never anyone else. Twenty years, though…_ Jackie said more, but it was then the Doctor realized the similarities. The bloody parallels between him and Jackie bloody Tyler. Twenty years or two hundred. No matter who came and went in his life, there’d only ever be Rose etched in his hearts. Just as there’d only ever been Pete for Jackie. It was sadly humbling to realize that.)

_Second chances._

The words surprised him, he didn’t know where they came from or that he’d even planned on saying them. But from the moment he realized she was back, returned to him (Rose in his arms, Rose wrapped around his body, Rose kissing him, Rose’s scent clinging to him, Rose’s mind reaching out for him) he knew this was their second chance.

It seemed that even if he was a No Second Chances kind of regeneration, the universe loved Rose enough to offer her a second chance. With him.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

They walked in silence for a bit longer when Rose abruptly stopped. In the middle of the vibrantly blooming garden, his bright woman among brilliant flowers, she looked desirable and breathtaking and he wanted her above all else and for a single beat of his hearts, the Doctor found it difficult to breathe.

God, he loved this woman.

“Where are the bees?” she asked.

“What?”

“I mean it’s the end of spring,” Rose continued, turning in a tight circle to look around them. “Shouldn’t there be swarms and swarms of bees buzzing around a garden this size?”

He followed her gaze around the garden, but it took even his impressive mind a moment to catch up to her change of subject. And he didn’t even have an answer for her. 

“Let’s find the others,” he said, torn between gratitude and sorrow that it didn’t look like they’d make it to Versailles after all.

As it turned out, Luke noticed the lack of bees, too. The Doctor didn’t have an explanation for them, though Sarah had offered several very viable possibilities including pollution and an overuse of pesticides. 

“Come on,” Martha said after lunch when they’d got no further on the question of the missing and/or disappearing bees.

She stood and shot Rose a pointed glance. “Let’s get to Versailles, then.”

And it was there, among the manicured gardens and broken promises and new memories that the Doctor made his decision.

No more running.

****  
Rose held the Doctor’s hand as they walked along the Orangerie at the Gardens at Versailles. He went on about the orange trees and the extensive excavating required to complete the gardens with as much enthusiasm as he spoke about Charles Dickens. Well, maybe not quite as much enthusiasm, but at least he’d stopped asking her if she was all right.

Tempted to give him a snarky comment about always being all right—and where was that concern for her after the whole clockwork robots and Madame de bloody Pompadour debacle?—Rose had instead offered him a mocking look. He’d ducked his head and frowned.

“It’s in the past,” she had sighed, trying to hold onto the present.

“Is it?” he’d asked quietly. His fingers had flexed around hers, and he’d gripped her hand as if afraid to let her go.

And that was when Rose had realized how difficult this was for him. Not seeing the gardens, not thinking about her, not any of that. But what fell under the all-purpose umbrella of _domestics_. Sex was one thing; one private aspect of their lives where no one saw them, no one witnessed how tender or dominating or erotic or loving the Doctor could be.

Emotions, on the other hand, were entirely different. Emotions everyone saw. Emotions were heavy-messy-complicated balls of passions and reactions and consequences. Of cause and effect on the most basic levels.

“Yes,” she’d answered honestly. “Yes, it is.” Rose had licked her lips and asked, “Forever, yeah? No more going back. No more arguing.” She’d grimaced and let out a soft chuckle. “About that, at least. Everyone argues.”

“Not about that,” the Doctor had agreed. And he’d sounded not just relieved, but open and happy and vulnerable. “I love you, Rose. Only you. Only ever you.”

Warmth had spread through her at his admission. No matter how often he said it now that she’d returned, how often he told her as they made love or as he held her afterwards, whenever he voiced the words, Rose melted a little inside.

Yes, this was the right thing to do. Coming here, putting that part of their past behind them. Not buried, she realized as the continued to wander the grounds. But settled.

Even deep down, Rose didn’t feel any residual jealousy or anger. Sadness, perhaps, that Reinette didn’t get the chance to see the stars. Oh, and wasn’t that a step (or five) up from where she’d been right afterwards? Even later, after they’d talked (fought-argued-screamed) about it.

Then again, Rose wasn’t as insecure over the Doctor’s feelings now, either. France and Madame de Pompadour had been so close to her new new Doctor and meeting Sarah and all the insecurities-uncertainties-fears from that time.

Now, as they walked the Orangerie, she breathed deeply and felt at peace. Sarah and Luke had wandered off, toward the palace itself, and Rose had the feeling Luke was tiring of gardens even if he seemed to love asking Jack and the Doctor questions about everything else. It really was a lovely spring day, and the scent of oranges made her smile.

“André Le Nôtre also drew up landscaping plans for Greenwich Park,” the Doctor was saying now. “Now there’s a place, the Royal Observatory commissioned by Charles II. A tourist attraction now, still…first place to house the Astronomer Royal.”

He went on a little, he and Jack discussing the inadequacies of 20th and 21st century astronomy and whether astrology was an adequate predictor of one’s true nature.

They walked down the Royal Pathway toward the Grand Canal which apparently took 11 years to build and was 1,670 meters long. Jack tossed a wink over his shoulder.

“We’ll be at the Temple of Love,” he called. “Don’t come find us.”

Martha responded too quietly for Rose to hear, but she heard her friend’s laugh and she willingly went with Jack to the far end of the grounds. Oh, how Martha had changed since Rose had first met her, and she wondered how open her friend would’ve been to one of Jack’s blatant suggestions then, when Rose and Jack had first returned.

Martha coming into herself? Or Jack’s influence? Either way, it was nice to see them happy. And Martha so relaxed.

The Doctor still waxed poetic on excavating the land, digging the canals using only manual labor, and the brilliance of André Le Nôtre.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose said, ignoring his speech on how kings used the Canal for water spectacles along the lines of the Ancient Romans. “I’m glad we came.”

“Are you?” he asked, but didn’t sound worried.

Just happy. Rose looked up at him and nodded. She squeezed his hand and they continued to walk along the Canal. She had a lot to say about then—a lot of fears to admit to. But they’d discussed it and Rose didn’t want to spoil the day with a rehash of old hurts.

“Yes. It was time.” She took a deep breath and laughed. “Thank you.”

“Rose, your wish is my command.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have NSFW, DNA discussions, and fluff...

They’d put Sarah and Mr. Smith on the problem of the missing bees. The Doctor had set the TARDIS to trace Rose’s mysterious phone call. Despite what she’d said about not being able to contact the other universe, the Doctor had his doubts.

He had a feeling it was Jackie. And if he knew anything about Jackie Tyler, it was that even separate worlds, the Void, and the destruction of two universes wouldn’t stop her from trying to get in touch with her daughter. But he didn’t want to tell Rose until he was sure.

Okay, fine. He was mostly sure.

But he didn’t want to get her hopes up until and unless he could reverse the signal and contact the other universe. Hell, neither he nor the TARDIS had had any luck in tracing a crack in the Void or finding the crack Rose had used to jump here.

( _Caan, let me help you. What do you say?_ He’d asked. Begged. Needed to stop this. And all right, maybe even needed to kill the final Dalek. To end it finally. Fully. Rose’s sacrifice. _Emergency temporal shift!_ And the last Dalek was…gone. And the Doctor had lost. Again.)

But that was for later. He’d set all the scans, there was nothing more he could do at the moment. Nothing more on that front and he let the TARDIS do Her work. She hummed at him, and the Doctor knew that if there was something to find, something to help Rose, She would.

He had other plans for tonight.

Stretched out beside her, the Doctor licked down Rose’s back. He savored each flavor, each texture, every moan and sigh and breathy sound of his name. The fingers of one hand brushed over the curve of her hip, her bum, as he continued cataloging his lover. 

He hadn’t started the tests on altering her DNA yet, but had no real reason as to why he hadn’t. No reason except his own fears holding him back. And it wasn’t fear of commitment; he’d made his commitment to Rose a long time ago. It wasn’t fear of committing to a family. He wanted that more than anything.

It was the very simple fact that he still couldn’t let Rose leave his sight for longer than a few hours. An hour. Thirty minutes, tops.

But he’d promised her and Martha a spa trip once he tweaked Rose’s DNA. It was partly to relax—he’d made that promise while still in 1969 and even Jack had jumped at the idea of a little R and R. It was also partly for Rose. Once he made the changes to her cellular structure, it’d take a couple days for her to recover.

And while the Doctor (and the TARDIS) had no trouble with Rose’s recovery being on the TARDIS, he didn’t want to inconvenience Jack or Martha.

But not yet. He wasn’t ready yet to let her out of his sight, away from his touch.

She’d noticed, of course she had. But his Rose hadn’t said anything yet. The Doctor had wondered about that for half a heartsbeat before realizing the truth: Rose didn’t want to leave his side, either. He sent her away to keep her safe and she’d returned to him. He’d lost her and she’d returned to him.

If he lost her again, it’d kill him.

Rose was strong and would survive another separation. He couldn’t. It’d kill him. And he knew that. He’d spiral down and down, making mistakes, not caring, trying to go on as normal but it’d be impossible. The Doctor knew that.

Beneath his hands and mouth and body, Rose shuddered, moaned his name. They’d lain in bed for hours, drawing out every touch and taste and sensation until even he wasn’t certain where she began and he ended.

Slow kisses, a brush of his fingers over her body, a slide of her leg against his hip. All aroused, every touch showed the depth of passion and need and want and love. He grabbed a pillow from where it’d been tossed earlier, so much earlier, and gently lifted her hips to slide it beneath her.

She breathed out his name and looked over her shoulder. Eyes dark with passion, bright with love, open and surrender and trust and yes. Oh yes. Anything you want.

The Doctor moved behind her, lips trailing up her spine as slowly as they’d trailed down. Along her shoulders, the sensitive side of her neck, his hands on her sides, her hips, wrapped around her own hands. Another shudder, another moan, and Rose moved more insistently now. He knew it was time. Every orgasm she’d had since he’d begun his pilgrimage over her body had built and built her arousal until it shone brightly through their link, golden and hot and grasping and consuming.

He slipped into her wetness and hissed out her name. Though he’d wanted to move slowly, gently, prolong every touch and movement and orgasm until the end, the feel of her clenching around him nearly undid what little control he retained.

“Rose,” he groaned, his teeth sinking harder than he’d intended into her shoulder. 

Rose gasped and arched beneath him, reminding him once more how she enjoyed the more orally obsessed aspects of his body. Pleasure suffused the bond and the Doctor’s thready hold on his control nearly snapped.

“Yes,” she moaned, bum moving against him, nearly dislodging him from his favorite place in the universe. “Yes, Doctor. I need…” she gasped in a breath as he withdrew slightly only to thrust hard back into her. “Yes, harder, make me come. Please. Please. Please.”

“Not yet,” he said against her skin. His tongue ran across the back of her neck and he moved.

Slow thrusts, not what either of them craved, but what he wanted to do to her. What he wanted to feel with her. The slow, drawn out pleasure that wound around and through and over them.

“If questioning would make us wise,” he began, thrusts steady, body blanketing hers, every nerve ending stretching and reaching for Rose’s. His mind connected with hers, already so open and so his. “No eyes would ever gaze in eyes; If all our tale were told in speech, No mouths would wander each to each.”

Rose whimpered beneath him, pushed herself up slightly and twisted to reach behind her, kiss him. He thrust harder and she gasped, broke the kiss, fisted her hands onto their bedding. Cried out his name. Shuddered and strained for release.

“Were spirits free from mortal mesh,” he continued, “And love not bound in hearts of flesh, No aching breasts would yearn to meet, And find their ecstasy complete. For who is there that lives and knows, The secret powers by which he grows? Were knowledge all, what were our need, To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?”

Harder, faster, his mind nearly consumed by Rose’s, the words barely voiced as his orgasm twisted tighter and tighter through him. Mouth on her skin, not enough, never enough, despite their bodies touching in every way possible.

“Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”, I love you now until I die. For I must love because I live, And life in me is what you give.”

Rose cried out, tightening around him as she climaxed hard. Head thrown back, her orgasm blinded him with color and sound and Rose. Always Rose. With a cry of her name, he came hard, emptied himself into her.

His arms buckled, and the Doctor collapsed onto Rose, who continued to shudder around him. He couldn’t separate his mind from hers, not the first time that had happened, but this was definitely the hardest. He hadn’t the strength-will-desire to build up his mental walls again, to live in his own mind, to pull away from Rose.

When he rolled them over, when Rose curled around him, his hearts still pounding, the Doctor didn’t know. Eventually, he no longer felt Rose quite as brightly, quite as strongly as when they made love. But neither did he feel her completely gone from his own mind, either.

“What was that you were saying?” she asked, voice a wisp of sound and breath across his chest.

The bedroom was bathed in a silver blue, the red-gold of Gallifrey no longer tinting the walls. He noticed the change, but didn’t worry about it. His ship often had ideas of Her own and liked to change the hues to suit Herself.

_(Please, change it, I can’t… please, I can’t look at it any longer. Get rid of it all, everything to do with…I can’t. Please, I can’t.)_

He shook himself from the memory and glanced down to make sure the broken pleading hadn’t leaked through their connection. Rose looked up at him, concerned, but the Doctor knew that was just her. He took the hand idly drawing circles on his chest and pressed his lips to her palm.

“ _Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her_ by Christopher Brennan,” he said, still holding her hand. “Australian, an eventual alcoholic, he wrote extensively about his mistress, Violet.”

Rose chuckled but didn’t move. She lay boneless against him. “Trying to tell me something? Ode to your true love, the TARDIS?”

The ship in question hummed pleasantly and the lights of their bedroom rippled for a moment. The Doctor frowned up at his ship. She’d been more and more vocal lately or as vocal as She’d ever become for a ship with no actual voice.

Maybe the return of Rose (and Jack) affected Her, too.

“Nope!” The Doctor smiled, his hand running gently up and down Rose’s arm. He’d sort his ship out later. One more oddity in the list that continued to grow since New York. “An ode to you. Brennan finds it impossible to put into words all the whys and how’s and wherefores of his love.”

Rose lifted her head just enough so he could see her bright smile, the love softening her eyes, and brushed her lips against his. “I know how he feels,” she admitted. “I… what I feel for you is too big for mere words.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “ _Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”, I love you, Rose, until I die._ ” The Doctor shifted them until they lay side by side and cupped her cheek, thumb running lightly over her soft skin. “ _For I must love because I live, And life in me is what you give._ ”

He pressed his lips to hers. “I want to only give you hope and love. The stars and the galaxies. But I too often give you pain and heartache. I want to give you so much, but seem incapable of keeping the darkness at bay.”

Rose shook her head. “The darkness isn’t your fault, my love.” She grinned softly and took his hand from her face, twining their fingers together. “And you’ve given me more than I’d ever imagined. I love our life. I love _you_. And I love the fact that we’re going to have a family.”

The Doctor nodded. At peace, fully content, he kissed her. “Rose Tyler, marry me?”

Her breath caught and she pulled back just enough to look at him. His hearts thundered in his chest as she stared at him, the moment drawing out and out and out.

“Yes,” she breathed.

****  
Rose lay on the exam table, which was far cushier than the last time she’d been there. But then it’d been a broken arm and a couple deep gouges. The Doctor hadn’t been happy then, and she’d often wondered if that anger had ever manifested itself. ( _Who hurt you? Who were they?_ He’d demanded in a cold, hard voice that sent shivers down her spine and boded ill for whose who’d hurt her.) She’d been here, and had never known if he’d gone back out to find those responsible. At the time, she hadn’t asked, either.

This time, the bed was soft and welcoming, like the one in their bedroom. Even the harsh overhead lights that allowed the Doctor to see even minor cuts and exam microscopic bacteria with a glance and without extra lighting were now dimmed in the soft green room.

They’d been here for a while. Rose had no idea how much time had actually passed, but he looked like he was nearly finished. Just as well, she was bored. And restless. And very, very tired of lying on this bed as machines beeped and her DNA was resequenced.

“Have you and Martha thought of a place to go?” the Doctor asked.

He’d shed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves as soon as they’d entered. Now his hair stood on end as he stared at the machines, and Rose wanted to run her own fingers through his dark locks. But she couldn’t move in case the tubes and lines jostled.

However, no matter what he programmed or sequenced or whatever, one hand constantly touched her. Brushed her fingers, the hair from her face, down her arm, or over her lips.

“We narrowed it down to two, I left the final decision up to Martha,” Rose admitted.

She hadn’t the chance to tell either Martha or Jack about the news.

After his marriage proposal, and her questions on Gallifreyan ceremonies, and lazy, sweet sex in their giant tub, Rose decided it was time. She still didn’t understand the Doctor’s reluctance, or was that fear? on completing this DNA tweak, but he hadn’t protested her suggestion.

He’d seemed eager and excited and still slightly withdrawn and quiet. But he’d given her that Let’s Do This smile and grabbed her hand and led her down the hallways.

“How long is the ceremony?” Rose asked.

She still hadn’t decided on an Earth ceremony or not. Did it matter? Their friends (family) wouldn’t care, and other than visits with them, and the occasional invasion to stop, they didn’t spend much time on Earth.

Not like when they’d visit her mum. Then again, now that Rose thought about it, they actually did spend quite a lot of time on Earth. They often visited Sarah and Luke, Sir Alistair and Lady Doris Lethbridge-Stewart, and Martha’s family.

If she had the chance to speak with Jackie again, to tell her, would her mum care what kind of marriage/bonding ceremony Rose and the Doctor had had?

And if she did, did Rose?

“As long or as short as we want it.” The Doctor picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. Rose shivered from the intimate contact but kept as still as possible. She didn’t want to do this DNA thing again.

Or somehow mess it up and transform into a giant scorpion.

“Traditional matches were long drawn out affairs with too many speeches on the importance of the political match and not enough wine.” He winked at her and sat on the bed, careful not to jostle any of the tubes or equipment. “But it’s supposed to be a private ceremony, just the couple if they wish. No witnesses needed.”

“Not in a society of telepaths,” Rose realized. “No, I guess that wouldn’t be necessary.”

And she was very careful to keep her voice light. To keep the sorrow and pain to herself that she could never truly touch the Doctor’s mind when they weren’t intimate. Oh, she knew, felt, the difference since her return, their bond was so much more than it had been. But she had the feeling, though he didn’t say and she didn’t ask, it was meant to be more.

“Technically,” he said, ears reddening slightly, “we’re already married. Well,” he corrected, his free hand tugging his ear as that blush spread to his normally pale face. “A basic, first step I guess you could call it.” He cleared his throat. “A bond.”

Rose’s mouth opened and closed for several seconds and her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t think to say something about that, hmmm?”

“Well,” he said, drawing out the word as he did whenever he was caught out. “I had planned on it.” His gaze softened. “After Kyoto, I’d planned to make it official.”

He released her hand and walked to where he’d hung his suit jacket. He dug in the pockets for a moment then held up a necklace. Stunningly crafted silver (or silver-like) filigree with a medium sized, deep red stone, it glinted in the dim lights and reminded Rose of Gallifrey, of the red-gold hue of their bedroom. It was gorgeous.

Rose tore her gaze from the necklace to the Doctor. “Kyoto?” she repeated, his words just now making sense. “But that was… God, Doctor, that was years ago!”

Team TARDIS, the three of them as family. Her blue-eyed lover, with his quick sneer at anyone who so much as looked at her wrong. Her broken warrior. Before Daleks and a blindly led just-doing-my-job human population and death and regeneration.

“I knew then.” He shrugged. “Was going to ask you there, but I didn’t have this, and we were trapped and well…” he trailed off again. “Once we were back on the TARDIS, I was going to ask you to marry me… do it right…but…”

Tears blurred her vision and Rose blinked hard. “Doctor,” she managed, and he crossed the room in three quick strides.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, fingertips wiping tears she had no control over. “Please, love, don’t cry. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

“I would’ve said yes.” Rose sniffled then took a deep breath to steady herself. “Even then, I would’ve said yes.”

She’d been young, very young, but had known. Rose wondered what they would’ve been like if he’d asked then (and there had been no Daleks). She’d still love him, no matter what. Nothing could change that.

He smiled softly and leaned over to press his lips against hers as he clasped the pendant around her neck, fingers brushing the stone, her skin. Rose didn’t feel different after it settled warmly against her. But then even without this symbol, she’d already made her vows to the Doctor.

He cleared his throat and pulled back, eyes drawn to the necklace, a soft, goofy smile of his face. “Yes.” He cleared his throat again and met her gaze. With a wider grin, the one that was part happiness, part let’s change the subject until we can do something about it, he sat back.

“You’re going to be tired for a couple days,” he said, still brushing his fingers along the inside of her wrist. “And we’ll be at the spa. Did you want to do the ceremony there?”

“No.” Rose didn’t even think about her answer. “I want all our friends, and Martha’s family, there. And I want it on the TARDIS.”

The ship hummed in pleasure, making the Doctor glance upwards in surprise. He frowned, but Rose had the feeling it wasn’t in response to her decision.

“All right.” He smiled down at her, that happy, giddy smile she saw more and more since her return.

“Then when we get back,” he said against her lips, “we’ll get married.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein our group find themselves on the leisure planet Midnight.

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave?” the Doctor asked.

Again.

Rose smiled up at him from her lounger, cup of herbal tea she didn’t remember the name of beside her, wrapped in a very thick, very warm robe. Her toes were chilled, but the Doctor had said that was a side effect and she should be all right in a day or two. Still, he’d folded a blanket beside her just in case.

Martha had a massage appointment in thirty minutes and was similarly wrapped in a warm robe. She’d offered to make an appointment for Rose, but Rose didn’t want anyone touching her.

Other than the Doctor.

She hadn’t told him that, not yet. He was still so worried about her that she couldn’t tell him one of the side effects (if that’s what this was) was an aversion to being touched by anyone not him. When she’d accidently brushed against Jack earlier, Rose had had to hold herself still from literally jumping back, away from one of her closest friends.

She didn’t want that and hoped (prayed to whoever might listen to her) that this was only temporary.

“I’ll be fine. I just want to lay here and rest, drink my Doctor prescribed tea and relax.” Rose tugged his tie and he willingly leaned forward. She kissed him softly, reveling in the feel of his lips on hers, his body so close.

Nope. No aversion there.

Though he must be worried about her, if he was so open with kissing her in front of others. Public displays of affection weren’t really his thing.

“What about you, Martha?” Jack asked.

Rose looked over the Doctor’s shoulder and saw Jack’s knowing smirk, the one that said _Aww, aren’t you two cute!_ She cleared her throat and grinned cheekily up at him. The Doctor didn’t turn, and Rose could see the faint uncomfortableness of the kiss in his gaze. But he swallowed and grinned down at her, that happy grin that made her want to laugh even as she pulled him closer for another kiss.

It was only with difficulty that Rose resisted.

“Sapphire waterfall,” Jack added. “It’s a waterfall made of sapphires.”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor said, turning to Martha who looked relaxed and at ease and not about to move any time soon. “This enormous jewel, the size of a glacier. Reaches the Cliffs of Oblivion, and then shatters into sapphires at the edge. They fall a hundred thousand feet into a crystal ravine.”

Martha laughed but shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine here. Besides, with the way our luck has been going, the cliffs would fall on us or transport us to prehistoric Midnight before this lovely spa was created.”

The Doctor looked horrified for a heartbeat then shook his head. “Naa, never happen.”

“Last chance,” Jack said, sitting on Martha’s lounger and kissing her quickly. “They’re boarding in five.”

“You two go have fun. We’ll be here in eight hours when you get back.” Rose tucked in the Doctor’s tie and winked. “I’ll be right here,” she added quietly for his benefit.

This was going to be the longest they’d been separated since her return. Her heart pounded in fear and anxiety and apprehension, but she swallowed that down, tried not to let it bleed through their bond, and smiled brightly up at her lover.

Fiancé.  
Husband?  
All of the above and more.

“You be careful, in the sunlight,” the Doctor added, fingers squeezing hers briefly. “It’s Xtonic sunlight.”

“We’ll be safe. Read up on it and the brochure says this glass is fifteen feet thick.” Rose promised. “I’ll go inside in a few,” she added for his benefit.

He nodded, brushed his fingers over the inside of her wrist, and stood. “We’ll be back for dinner. We’ll try that anti-gravity restaurant, yes?”

“With bibs,” Jack added with a laugh and another kiss to Martha, who looked ready to skip her massage and drag Jack back to the TARDIS.

“It’s a date,” Rose told the Doctor, winking at him. “Just,” she paused and grabbed his hand as he turned to leave. “You’ll be careful?”

He grinned that unrepentant smile. His dark eyes sincere and soft, and he nodded. “Taking a big space truck with a bunch of strangers across a diamond planet? What could possibly go wrong?”

Rose groaned but laughed. “Well now that you’ve said that...”

“It’ll be fine,” the Doctor promised as Jack stood as well. “We’ll be back by dinner.”

He turned, but Rose caught Jack’s eye before the men left. She wanted to tell him to watch out for the Doctor. Both of them to be careful and watch out for themselves. But the words sounded superfluous and caught in her throat. Was she being silly? Overprotective and clingy because this was the longest they’d be separated?

Swallowing her fears, she offered Jack a half smile. But her friend’s blue eyes were serious and concerned. He nodded once, winked in an I’ll watch out for him, not in a suggestive way (or as non-suggestive as Jack ever got) and followed the Doctor across the waiting room and toward the space truck.

“You going to be all right?” Martha asked the moment Jack and the Doctor disappeared from sight.

Rose tore her gaze from the empty doorway to her friend, whose gaze flicked between the door and her. Nodding, Rose swallowed hard. “Yeah.” She drew in a deep breath and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Gonna sleep a little, then maybe we can grab a light lunch at that place by the entrance? The one we passed on the way in.”

“Oh, the Midnight Express.” Martha laughed. “Campy name, but the food looked great! I’m curious about the fish they listed.”

“Hmm, yes,” Rose agreed. “And the soup. Though the bread smelled delicious.”

“Yes,” Martha sighed, but she still looked shrewdly at Rose. “Are you sure you’ll be okay while I get my massage?”

“Martha, I’ll be fine!” Rose promised.

She suddenly wondered if Martha stayed to keep an eye on Rose. Had she volunteered? Had the Doctor asked? No, Martha had really looked forward to a spa day and a few hours downtime. Plus, the Doctor would’ve stayed himself if that was the case, if he truly was worried for her.

Besides, staying in one place only to watch her rest wasn’t something she could see the Doctor doing. Even at TARDIS induced night, once she fell asleep, he usually got up to tinker at his desk or, less often, read as he held her. Rose had grown used to it long ago and knew it was only because he required so little sleep.

And absolutely hated to be bored. She’d once tried to explain that no one liked being bored, that boredom wasn’t a feeling to look forward to, but he’d insisted that for Time Lords, it was worse.

Since her return, she’d been eating better, healthier as she had when she’d been working on the dimension cannon. Loads of fruits and vegetables and protein, and had slowly cut back on her sleep. The TARDIS woke her a few minutes earlier every few days or week or so whenever her body seemed to acclimate to the difference.

Now, instead of her former nine hours of sleep (it’d been closer to six while she’d worked on the cannon but then she’d crash for far too long and had always felt she lost too much time that way), she was approaching seven hours. Some days she napped, or wanted to, and some mornings both the TARDIS and the Doctor let her sleep a little longer.

This DNA resequencing notwithstanding of course.

But Rose didn’t want to miss any more time with the Doctor than she already had.

Now, she and Martha chatted for a few minutes more about lunch, maybe taking a stroll along the promenade before the guys returned, and possibly souvenir shopping for Keisha, Martha’s niece.

“Did Leo tell Shonara?” Rose asked. “About you and us, and the TARDIS, I mean.”

“He said he was going to.” Martha shrugged. “Don’t know if he did or not. I’ll ask next time we visit.”

“You know,” Rose pointed out with a knowing look, “you can just text him. Or call him even.”

“I could,” Martha allowed. But then she smiled and Rose understood all too well the implications behind that particular evasive maneuver. “But I’d rather hear about your new necklace.”

Rose blinked, fingers automatically brushing the stone. It lay warm against her skin, almost like a constant reminder that the Doctor was there, right there. If she concentrated, meditated on his touch and presence, and reached out with her mind, she could feel him through their bond.

But it was faint, almost like he was just out of reach. If she stretched just that much further, she’d have him, but no matter how the fingertips of her mind stretched and expanded, he was always just out of reach.

“Oh. Um.” Rose cleared her throat. On the one hand, she wanted to keep the pendant’s meaning to herself. To keep their bond between her and him. On the other hand, she really wanted to share with Martha.

Her best friend.

Grinning widely, Rose said, “It’s an engagement pendant. From the Doctor’s home world.”

“I knew it!” Martha cheered. “Jack owes me five quid.”

“He what?” Rose asked then frowned. “What did Jack think it was, then?”

“Oh,” Martha said and finished her tea. “He thought it was some telepathic receptacle. Make your connection stronger or something.”

Rose opened her mouth then closed it. Was it? She hadn’t asked, and the Doctor hadn’t said. If it was more than a bonding/engagement necklace, wouldn’t he have said? Probably. And wouldn’t she have felt it? Felt the difference?

“Jack probably thought it was about mental sex,” Rose muttered.

Martha giggled and Rose knew it’d been one of his theories. She sighed, but her grin didn’t diminish.

“Martha Jones?” the tall humanoid woman stood before them, having glided out of nowhere. “I’m here to escort you to your massage, Martha Jones.”

Martha nodded and stood. But she hesitated. “You’ll be all right? It’s not a long massage, not even an hour. You’ll be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah.” Rose nodded. “I’m going to nap.”

Martha nodded and left. Rose finished her tea, fingers tracing the pendant over and over. Mental sex? Would marriage increase their connection? The Doctor hadn’t said anything about that, either. And given his sudden tendency to ask numerous times if she wanted what she’d said she wanted, Rose decided he’d have asked her about that, too.

So no, no mental sex through the pendant. Would it increase their connection? Their bond? She doubted that, too.

The necklace was a symbol, much like wedding rings. Except, she thought as her eyes closed. What did he wear? What did she have to give him as a symbol of their bonding? Maybe she’d ask the TARDIS for help.

Rose woke when Martha sat back down. She looked utterly relaxed and completely at peace. Boneless, Rose decided. She was a little jealous at the complete relaxed state of her friend, but the thought of anyone touching her made her skin crawl.

“Good massage, then?” Rose asked.

“I never really had time before,” Martha said with a sigh as she leaned back in her lounger and sipped bright green liquid. “School then work, studying all the time. If I’d known what I was missing, I’d have made the time to get a massage weekly.”

“Jack’s good with his hands,” Rose said slyly, stretching awake. She felt so much better. “I’m surprised he hasn’t offered his services as a masseuse.”

“Oh.” Martha giggled. “He’s very good with his hands. But we usually get distracted and then relaxing is the last thing on either of our minds.”

Rose laughed with her and reached for Martha’s drink. “What is it?” She sniffed the contents. “Smells citrusy.”

“No idea. But the woman who did my massage, Thadra, she swears it’ll help keep me relaxed.”

Rose nodded and sipped the cold drink. It was delicious, slid smoothly down her throat, and felt as if it flowed straight through her veins. She handed it back to Martha with a smile. She’d have to ask for the recipe, but right then didn’t want to take any chances with her newly altered DNA. She was tired enough, and the Doctor had given her special tea to help her body through the changes.

Didn’t want to mess that up.

“Still tired?” Martha asked, taking the cup back. “Did the Doctor say how long that would last?”

Rose shrugged. “As long as my body needs.”

“And how do you feel about the changes to your DNA?” Martha asked, draining the last of the beverage. “Want to grab a bite now?”

Nodding, Rose stood. How did she feel about it? “I hadn’t really thought about it, honestly. It’s the only way we’re compatible, so I’m willing to give it a try.”

“There’s a lot of controversy back home,” Martha said as they wandered around the pool toward their lockers and clothing. “But then I guess you’re not trying to have a blue eyed baby with blonde hair—you’re not using genetic manipulation to choose the sex or health of the child, to take out certain factors and such, but to actually have a child.”

Rose looked at her friend askance. She hadn’t even told the Doctor way back when they first discussed the possibility of children that she’d once fantasized about that—a baby with his blue eyes and her blonde hair (colored as that hair might be). In the future, sure, she hadn’t been ready to be a mum then, but oh, she’d thought about it.

Clearing her throat, she tugged on her yoga pants and top and reset the locker combination.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat and grinned. “You’re still okay with that?”

“In this case, yes.” Martha held open the door and Rose followed her into the loo. She waited until they were walking back toward the restaurant before resuming the conversation.

They chatted over morality, ethics, and the differences in both they’d encountered in their travels with the Doctor while they ate, before taking a stroll the long way back to the pool.

“I’ve been thinking about what I need to do,” Rose said as they looked out of the windows. Need to do. Not want to do.

“I thought about writing a book on living with a Time Lord, but who else would care?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Martha said with a sly smile. “Jack would buy the first copy!” She laughed the shrugged. “Your kids?”

Another shrug and Rose laughed. “I supposed I could make it into an intergalactic soap.”

“It’d have top ratings,” Martha agreed.

“I don’t know. An intergalactic travel guide?” She suggested.

“Oh, I like that one! Top ten travel destinations for the discerning traveler. Or top ten spa planets.” Martha grinned. “We’d have to try out a bunch more at that rate.”

“I’m game if you are,” Rose agreed. “I don’t know, the writing appeals to me, gives me a way to talk about our travels.”

“What’d the Doctor think about your search for yourself?”

“Oh.” Rose waved a hand but the smile gave her away. Her fingers brushed the necklace, and she tried not to blush at Martha’s knowing look. “Whatever I want.”

So long as she didn’t leave him. Not that she was planning on that. Ever.

It happened as they stopped at a bank of glass that overlooked the jeweled mountains.

Rose screamed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha on the leisure planet Midnight with a suddenly screaming and terrified Rose.

Martha’s heart stopped.

One heartbeat they were laughing and joking and looking out over the literally sparkling panorama and the next Rose fell to her knees, clutched at her head, and _screamed_. Martha jumped into action. She didn’t know what was wrong with her friend, but the sounds emanating from Rose were unnatural. Whether she realized she screamed and screamed and screamed, Martha didn’t know.

The sound echoed along the promenade, a wailing, keening cry of pain and anger.

Robe-clad customers and tall humanoid attendants in green scrubs raced for them, all concerned, all offering help or water or that really delicious juice Martha had earlier. They crowded around, pushed in until she couldn’t breathe.

“No, get away,” she ordered. “Get back!”

With quick movements, Martha stretched Rose on her back, turned her head to the side and examined her. Nothing obstructed her windpipe, not with those screams and there seemed to be nothing physically wrong with her, not that Martha could tell with a hundred people milling around, closer and closer, and Rose fully clothed. But Rose didn’t convulse and there were no obvious wounds or bleeding.

“Get back!” Martha shouted again over the murmurs and increasing calls of those watching and Rose’s constant screams.

Rose cried no words—nothing that gave Martha an idea as to what happened or what was wrong or even what she could do to help. Just a long, loud scream with no pause for breath. It went on and on and on, but Martha blocked it out. She had enough experience in A&E and traveling with the Doctor to focus on the current situation.

Oh, and wouldn’t she be proud of herself later.

Martha ran her hands over Rose’s arms, to her hands. She tried to pry Rose’s hands from her head, where her fingers dug into her skull, but with no luck. And Martha didn’t want to pull harder in case she accidently hurt Rose in the process.

“Rose,” she said, straddling her friend and trying desperately to grab her attention. “Rose, it’s me. It’s Martha. Rose can you hear me?”

Screaming and screaming and screaming.

Suddenly, a pair of green scrub-clad humanoids flanked her and gently pulled her off Rose. “No!” Martha shouted just as they leaned down to pick Rose up between them.

Martha had one second to register the anti-gravity cart between them, the quarantine forcefield shimmering around the cart, and the shiny futuristic clipboard. Already moving, shouting, _Get away! Go back! Don’t touch her!_ pulling the first green-clad medic away from Rose, she already was too late.

Rose roared at them— _ **roared**_ —and with a strength Martha had never seen from the other woman, flung the medics away from her. Jerking out of the now-slackened hold, Martha closed the distance between she and Rose in one jump.

At least they had more room; most of the spectators had drifted away or were scared off by Rose’s sudden strength. And constant screams. Martha had the fleeting thought that someone was taking a video or pictures on a mobile device, but hadn’t time to worry about that.

“Rose!” Martha called, hands again on Rose’s which once more clutched at her head. “Rose it’s Martha. Rose what’s wrong? Is it the changes? Is it…” and that’s when Martha realized it wasn’t the DNA changes. No, it was far, far worse than that.

“Is it the Doctor?” Martha asked in horror.

Around her the medics, now with reinforcements, picked both of them up and deposited them—Rose still stretched out, unnaturally stiff, and Martha straddling her waist as she desperately tried to stop Rose’s screams, to reach her friend—onto the anti-gravity cart. The forcefield shimmered around them.

Martha didn’t care.

She released one of Rose’s hands and reached into her back pocket where she’d shoved her mobile when they’d changed for lunch. Eyes on Rose, one hand still grasping Rose’s, Martha hit the speed dial for Jack.

She didn’t know why she didn’t call the Doctor first. He was the logical choice, the obvious one with Rose screaming and crying out and so unnaturally stiff and still and _frightening_. But as the phone rang once, just once, Martha realized two things and she shoved both of them into the back of her mind.

One was that she trusted Jack, he was _her_ first choice.  
Two was that if Rose screamed as if someone tried to gut her mind with a pickaxe, something had to be wrong with the Doctor.

“Now’s not a good time, Martha,” Jack said. But he didn’t hang up. “What’s that sound?”

“What’s wrong with the Doctor?” Martha demanded. “Rose is screaming as if someone is trying to scoop out her brain with a spoon.”

Jack cursed, long and fluently and in several languages. She was mildly impressed. “There’s something alive out there,” he said. Then, “Yes, Professor, you keep saying that’s impossible but you’re wrong so _shut up!_ ”

“Can you get back?” Martha asked. Pleaded.

She hadn’t taken her gaze from Rose, who had calmed slightly. She still clutched her head, fingers digging cruelly into her skull, but the screams and cries had quieted to more of a whimper—a painful, agonizing, torturous sob that ripped at Martha and did nothing too ease her fears.

“Truck’s broke. Something tried to break in.” Jack took a deep breath and she heard him growl at something or someone.

No weapons were allowed on Midnight, let alone on the truck, but Martha knew her lover—he had one stashed where even the most sophisticated scans couldn’t find. At that moment, with the anti-gravity cart moving smoothly down the hallway and Rose’s whimpers hurting Martha’s heart and head and very soul, she knew she loved Jack Harkness.

“Stay back,” Jack growled. “You try to so much as cross that line and trust me. I will shoot you and not even care.”

“Jack,” Martha breathed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, Martha.” She heard the frustration in his voice and the pain and the anger, the hard anger. “Truck stopped, broke down, there was banging, one of the passengers was…taken over.”

“By what?” Martha shook her head. “No. Never mind. Not important. Rose is still whimpering, the medics are taking us someplace. If you can find a way back, please, Jack. Do it. Now. She needs him.”

“He’s in no shape to help her, Martha,” Jack admitted in a softer voice. The rest of the passengers must’ve obeyed him, he sounded less angry-stressed-ready to shoot, and Martha felt a breath of relief move through her. “Whatever it is, it’s inside him. Crashed through his barriers and taken up real estate.”

She heard the Doctor then, repeating, reciting, everything Jack said. Jack made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t snap at the Doctor to keep quiet—it probably wouldn’t do any good, from the sounds of it.

_**What the hell was going on in that truck?** _

Ice cold dread settled hard and heavy in her stomach, but Martha nodded. “Right. It’s got to be it then, what’s affecting Rose.”

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Okay. All Right. Yes.

Martha breathed deeply and shoved her fear and panic and terror behind her own mental wall. She’d fall apart later. Now she had to help her family. It was that mental bond Rose had told her about. Whatever broke through the Doctor’s mental barriers had also somehow found his link with Rose and done something to it.

Jack took another breath. “I’ve got him. No one,” he said louder and she knew that was directed to the rest of the passengers, “is going to touch him. Rescue truck’s on its way.”

“Keep your phone handy,” Martha ordered and was inordinately pleased her voice didn’t shake. “And the second, the _second_ , you get back you call me, Jack Harkness. I’ll tell you where we’re at, find a way to get you here.”

Jack agreed and rang off.

Martha turned back to Rose. Her eyes were closed tight, not in restful sleep but in agony. Lines pinched the sides of her mouth, and her body was rigid beneath Martha’s. She slipped her mobile back into her pocket and looked up. They’d stopped and for the first time she wondered how long the medics looked at her with a sort of wariness usually reserved for feral creatures with long claws and bloodlust intent on the destruction of everyone in a 10 meter radius.

Rolling her shoulders, she sat up and glared at one of them until they approached.

“Release the quarantine field,” she ordered in her best doctory voice.

The Martha from before, the one who’d just met the Doctor, wouldn’t have sounded so authoritative. This Martha knew her worth, her skills, her responsibilities. And she had the confidence and self-assurance to voice them.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that until we find the cause of her distress.”

Martha had several theories but didn’t feel like sharing. She was suddenly cold, her mind raced far too quickly for her to grab onto a thought, and she needed to use the loo. And oh, could she murder a cuppa.

“If you don’t let us out of this quarantine field,” Martha snapped, “and onto a softer bed where I can attend to her, you’ll never find the cause of her _distress_.”

“We’ll run our scans from the anti-gravity bed,” the medic, who seemed to have the misfortune to have been elected to deal with the crazy humans, began. His voice shook but he tried to cover it with a pretentiousness he couldn’t carry off.

“I’m the only one who can help her,” Martha snarled, patience completely gone. “Let us out of this field, give us a bed in a corner, and I’ll take care of her.”

He opened his mouth, most likely to protest, and she snapped. “I’ll sign whatever you need me to. You’ll have no legal, medical, or hell _spiritual_ control. I’ll assume it all.”

Ten minutes later, Martha had signed everything she needed to (in triplicate even with the electronic pen) and hopped off the cart. Stretcher? Whatever.

She debated rolling Rose onto the bed they’d provided. Was it best to simply let her friend sleep, such as it was, or to rouse her instead? Martha bit her lip but sighed. She had a vague memory about Rose pushing off one of the medics with a superhuman strength and rage.

No, Martha’d roll her—whatever sleep Rose was getting had to be better than the screaming pain. Plus, the less people to touch Rose the better. Not that Martha trusted any of the medics with their itchy scanner fingers.

Martha pulled up a chair, cast one last glare in the direction of the medics still hovering off to one side, took Rose’s hand, and rested her head on the bed. She was drained, but promised herself she’d only close her eyes for a few minutes.

That lot didn’t look like they planned to keep their distance. Great. Just what she needed. Nosey natives with nifty…scanners. Her brain was starting to shut down, but she wondered what an N word for scanners was. _Bet the Doctor would know._

Martha had just closed her eyes for the fourth time when Rose began to speak. She hadn’t uttered a sound since they’d arrived in the hospital wing, Martha didn’t even know how long ago. The screaming had quieted, but Rose remained stiff and unmoving on the plush hospital bed.

“It’s gone,” Rose said in a quiet, hoarse voice. She didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes, her lips barely formed the words. But she repeated them. “It’s gone. It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone. It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone. It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone.”

Hand hovering over the mobile that now sat between she and Rose, Martha hesitated. The one time she’d talked with Jack, he’d sounded as if he kept an entire truck of people out to kill them away from the Doctor with only himself and whatever weapon he’d managed to smuggle onboard.

She’d kiss him later for that.

Should she call him now? Find out what happened? Or just wait? She knew Jack—he’d keep his promise to find them the instant he and the Doctor returned.

Her phone buzzed and she jumped. Was that them? Back? No. Her mum. A quick _How are you, love?_ text. Martha’s fingers shook as she answered as briefly as possible with the barest truth she could: _On a leisure planet at a spa. Just had lunch. Call you later!_

Not a complete lie. In fact, every word was the truth. Rolling her head to one side then the other, Martha dropped her phone back to its spot on Rose’s bed and tried to work the tension out of her shoulders and neck. How had Rose dealt with her own mum and the questions: Where’d you go? What’d you see? Were you safe?

Martha’s fingers dug into her shoulders and neck but offered little relief. Come on, come on, come on…where were they?

A medic, one Martha hadn’t seen before, glided up to the bed with what smelled like a lovely steaming cup of tea. Martha’s fingers itched to take it from her and press the warm mug to her forehead where a headache throbbed, but all she did was watched the other woman stoically.

She was not taking any chances.

“I won’t touch her,” the woman said in a melodious voice quite unlike the other medics who’d tried to step over Martha’s mental line in the sand. “I don’t even have any equipment, I promise. I just wanted to offer you a mug of tea.”

Warily, Martha nodded. “Thank you.”

Her phone buzzed. _On our way. Where are you?_

Martha quickly typed in a reply and promised to send someone to guide Jack and the Doctor to the medical wing and their little corner of it.

“There’s not supposed to be any life out there,” the woman said. She was tall enough to easily see out the window by Rose’s bed. When she turned, her startlingly green eyes focused on Martha. “They built this spa for the view. Even mining is forbidden, too dangerous even with spacesuits. They say nothing can survive. But it’s lovely. I think it’s one of the loveliest places in the galaxy.” 

Martha relaxed at this and took another sip of tea. “I’ve seen a lot of things,” she said. “And none of it matches how I was raised to think of life or sentience.” She shrugged, Jack’s words haunting her. But this woman didn’t seem to know any of that, and she was far too exhausted to engage in a debate on the subject.

“If we stop traveling,” she said instead, taking another sip of tea, “stop learning, then what is there?”

It sounded like something the Doctor would say or had said. The woman smiled and nodded and disappeared back the way she’d come. Martha didn’t watch her leave, but stared, unseeingly, at her phone, willing Jack to text or call or show up with the Doctor.

She jumped up and called to the female medic who’d been kind enough to bring her tea. She needed to make arrangements to pick up Jack and the Doctor. And had the feeling that the sooner they were off this planet the better for all involve. Martha also doubted management would mind too much to see them leave.

****  
“I’m fine.” The Doctor tried to snap as Jack helped him off the truck. It came out weak and tired instead of with the insistence he’d wanted.

With heavy arms and tired movements, he rolled down his shirtsleeves and shrugged on his suit jacket and coat. He wanted a bath. Wanted to soak in their tub and hold Rose and forget this day ever happened.

The rest of their group eyed them warily and gave them a very wide berth, but he didn’t care. He’d ask Jack what he’d threatened them with later. Right now, the Doctor wanted off that truck and away from this planet. He wanted Rose in his arms and he wanted to breathe in her scent, feel her arms around him and know they were truly wrapped around him.

The brush of her mind against his.

Not the fear-dread-panic-nightmare at not being able to feel her. At the thought of her still being trapped across the Void. He’d thought he’d heard her calling to him or maybe it was his mind reaching out to her when he wasn’t in control.

He hadn’t been able to feel her as he’d been able to even that morning, but chalked it up to the bizarre and frightening experience with whatever entity had invaded him. The Doctor couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked his body and didn’t even protest when Jack wrapped an arm under his shoulder in support.

Now, the Doctor reached out for Rose. She was there but faint, not at all the strong brush against his mind he’d expected. Anticipated.

“Doctor,” Jack said, wary and guarded.

The Doctor didn’t know where the weapon Jack had had disappeared to. He also didn’t care. Might’ve before, might’ve yelled at Jack for carrying one. Not today. Not now. Might not do so ever again. Sometimes he— _they_ —needed protection.

“I just got you back.” Jack watched him steadily, but the Doctor knew the other man knew the location of every other person in a twenty meter radius. “Pardon me for not trusting you on your own two feet just yet.”

Jack sent another glare at Professor Hobbs and poor Dee Dee, who looked as if she wanted to follow them instead of that condescending jerk. Where once upon a time, hell a few hours ago, the Doctor would’ve offered her a trip, offered for her to travel with them for a bit at least, (maybe even gone back in time to search for the lost moon of Poosh) right now he didn’t bother.

He was too tired, too drained, and too worried about Rose and the faintness of their bond to bother with anything else.

“Do you remember what happened?” Jack asked as he guided them to what looked like a golf cart.

The Doctor frowned at it but only offered a short, “Yes.”

And it terrified him.  
Loss of control  
Loss of power  
And restraint  
And discipline  
And his own mind.

Jack all but forced him to climb into the cart and the Doctor turned to glare at his friend. “I don’t need an escort and I don’t need a bloody cart. I can walk on my own.”

“We’re going to get Martha and Rose.” Jack stopped and nodded to the driver, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Something happened to her while you were…she’s in the hospital wing.”

Horrified, the Doctor stared at his friend for a long, long minute as the cart made its way along the bright corridors of the pavilion. His hearts pounded and he reached out for Rose. Still that faint brush, the thready tether as if the past months hadn’t happened and hadn’t strengthened their bond.

“What?” he demanded.

It came out weak and scared and he didn’t even care.

“I don’t know. Martha said she started screaming and they were in hospital.” Jack stared hard at him but didn’t condemn. He was worried and the ice that gripped the Doctor’s heart squeezed painfully.

The drive to Rose was interminable. The Doctor wanted to run to her, knew he could move faster than this stupid cart, but his legs locked in paralyzed fear.

Had he done this to her? Yes. _What_ had he done to her?

The instant the cart stopped, the Doctor leaped out of it and raced into the ward, Jack beside him. He scanned the area, but didn’t immediately see Rose. His hearts clenched then pounded harder and harder and faster and he drew in great gulps of air.

So much for superior Time Lord biology.

“Rose!” he called.

Somehow that made the majority of the medics stop in what looked like fear and trepidation. He frowned at that, but ignored them. He needed to get to Rose.

“Jack! Doctor!”

The Doctor heard Martha’s call and turned in the direction of her voice. The wing was nearly empty, and he spun and raced down it, unheeding of the few people wandering around or of those still staring.

“Where is she?” he asked but already moved toward the bed Martha guarded like a mother bear.

He’d ask about that later, too.

“Doctor.” Rose’s voice was weak and unsteady, but when she opened her eyes, her gaze was clear and open.

“Rose,” he whispered and knelt by her bed.

He took her hand and brushed his lips over the inside of her wrist. She was fully clothed, right down to the sneakers she’d obviously put on for the lunch she and Martha had discussed. The necklace lay flat against her skin, and he brushed his fingers over it. Rose shivered and managed a ghost of a smile.

“What happened?” he asked, leaning over her as if to protect her from an imagined blow.

“You were hurt,” she whispered. “I don’t know. But it hurt me. I felt it through our bond.”

Fear.  
Dread.  
Pain.

He stared at her in horror for several long seconds as her words registered. Closing his eyes, he cursed his weaknesses. His weakness for Rose. If he hadn’t bonded with her, she never would’ve felt what happened. Her pain, this hospital bed, was his fault.

“No it’s not,” she said clearly, if still tiredly.

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. Had he said that aloud? No. He knew he hadn’t. But their bond was still so weak and he knew with absolute certainty that she hadn’t read his mind.

Her eyes started to close, but she spoke clearly. “It’s not your fault. I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”

“How can you believe that?” The Doctor looked into her clear hazel ones. Trust-strength-hope-love. He nodded at her, her belief in him, in them. Wasn’t sure he believed his own agreement.

He waited while she drifted into sleep, and brushed her mind just enough to make sure no dreams—nightmares—bothered her. It was a light sleep, which was just as well. He wanted off this planet. Now.

Turning to where Martha and Jack stood at the end of the bed, he looked at Martha. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Martha looked tired and drained. And, he thought and oh the irony, like she needed another spa day to recover. He’d make it up to her. Up to both of them. Jack had protected him while Martha looked as if she’d protected Rose.

The Doctor would never be able to repay either of them.

“We were walking along the windows, looking out at the mountains and talking. Suddenly she screamed.” Martha ran a hand down her face and rolled her shoulders. Jack stood behind her to massage them, and the Doctor watched the tension fade away at the touch.

“She shoved away one of the medics, didn’t let any of them touch her.” Martha drew in a deep breath. “She’d kept away from everyone since the, ah.” She glanced at the hovering group of people at the end of the row of beds and though they probably couldn’t hear her, lowered her voice and stepped next to the Doctor.

“Since the treatments. But,” she continued, “other than that, she seemed fine.”

“Did she say anything when…” he swallowed.

What did Martha mean she didn’t want anyone touching her? He hadn’t noticed, hell he had a very clear memory of kissing her, holding her hand, before he and Jack left.

“Did she say anything?”

“No.” Martha was firm in that. “Just a loud scream of sound.” She glanced over her shoulder at the group still hovering there. “Let’s get out of here. I already signed a tome worth of papers agreeing to assume responsibility for Rose and absolving them of any and all legal problems.”

The Doctor nodded and stood. With gentle movements, he helped Rose sit. “Rose,” he said quietly, as her head rolled onto his shoulder. “Love, can you stand?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hear the word so much as see her nod and her lips mouth the syllable. He helped her to the edge of the bed then to her feet. She swayed once, and rather than take the chance on her collapsing, the Doctor swung her into his arms.

“Where do you think—”

“We’re leaving,” Martha snapped at the tall medic who had dared venture down the row when everyone else remained clumped together at the end. “You already have your paperwork in electronic bloody triplicate. Don’t try it,” she warned.

The man, considerably taller than either the Doctor or Jack drew himself up higher. “We don’t know what’s wrong with her or if it’s contagious,” he began.

“I already told you,” Martha continued in that short, hard tone he’d never heard from her before. “I’m her sister and I’ve assumed all responsibility. This man is her husband.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Martha’s words and manner. What the hell had happened while he and Jack were gone?

“We’re leaving.” Martha stepped right up to the man and shooed him out of the way. “She’s not contagious and you’re in my way.”

The man hastily jumped to the side and the Doctor again wondered at Martha’s words and mannerisms. She’d certainly changed from the innocent medical student he’d first encountered. A small smile played around his lips at that. Martha Jones had come a long way. And for the better.

“Let’s go home, Rose,” he whispered to her as he carried her from the hospital to the TARDIS.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of what happened on Midnight. Doctor/Jack bonding.

He’d scanned Rose—nothing physically wrong with her.  
He’d gently probed their bond—nothing wrong there, either.

She was asleep now. He’d stayed with her until she’d drifted off and though he’d slipped into her mind, no nightmares or residual unidentified entities plagued her. Though fatigue tugged his limbs, the Doctor couldn’t relax.

What had he done to her?

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He looked up sharply as Jack entered the kitchen. The other man looked drained as well, and the Doctor thought he’d gone to bed ages ago with Martha. Instead of questioning him, the Doctor stood and opened the fridge, pulling out two bottles of Jack’s favorite beer.

Opening his, Jack silently toasted him before drinking down half of it in one go. 

“What do you think it was?” Jack asked. He tilted the chair back and swung his legs onto the table.

Jack didn’t make eye contact, but stared at the ceiling, at the burnt orange sky of Gallifrey. The Doctor wondered what Jack saw when he looked up. _He_ saw memories and people and places he’d once been, had once known. Glancing up, the Doctor amended that last thought. No, it wasn’t entirely true.

He saw a future now. Conversations with Rose. Explanations to Jack. His apology to Martha after the lie he’d told her on New Earth. ( _Too busy showing off_ , he’d told Brannigan and Valerie with exhaust fumes creeping up to choke him. Too busy trying so desperately to forget his loss and pretend his life was only travel and adventure and not the choking weight of grief.)

The Doctor shook his head and pushed those thoughts aside.

“No idea.” He shrugged. “A very strong telepath, I’d say. But no idea what. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever felt before.”

“Do you think it’s still out there?” Jack glanced at the Doctor when he didn’t answer. “I told them,” he continued. “I don’t know if they believed me, but with what happened to the truck, the drivers, to the Hostess…what the Hostess did. Her name was Alesha, by the way. I asked.” Jack cleared his throat. “And I think I saw Dee Dee hovering in the sidelines. I think she’ll tell them what happened, too.”

He nodded silently. Didn’t know what else to say. Wasn’t even sure when Jack had time to do that, to tell anyone in charge what had happened.

“I’ve seen a lot of things, Doctor,” Jack said quietly. “Faced down Daleks and sixty years of isolation and waiting. Death more times than I can count. Clairvoyants, fairies, a few wars. What happened to you was the scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

He shuddered and the Doctor reached across the table. Grasped his forearm. “Thank you, Jack.”

Jack nodded and finished his beer in one swallow. “I’m going to check on Martha. She had a rough time with Rose. From what I gather, she single handedly kept everyone and their scanners away from Rose while they waited for us to get back.”

The Doctor sucked in a deep breath. “I can never repay her.” He looked up at Jack, whose blue eyes were tired but understanding. “Either of you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“You would’ve survived,” Jack said with far more confidence than the Doctor had.

“Get to bed, Doc.” Jack stood. “Curl up around Rose, hold her close, and put that big brain of yours to good use.”

He stopped at the doorway and turned. When he smiled this time, it was a cocky, suave, Jack Harkness smile with that knowing innuendo in his gaze. “Plan your ceremony. Don’t let another day pass.”

Speechless, the Doctor watched Jack saunter from the room. He had a feeling Jack planned to curl up around Martha and hold her throughout the night. The other man didn’t seem to need as much sleep as he’d used to, and the Doctor had no doubt he’d spend it protecting Martha. Even on the TARDIS. Even in the safety of their own bed.

With a sigh, he finished his own beer but made no move to rise.

What had he done?

Left Rose. Left her when he’d promised her he wouldn’t. Eight hours. That’s all he was supposed to be gone—their longest separation since her return. Totally doable.

And it was time. Time for them both to ease back into doing separate things. (When had they done that?) Ease into being more than a hand’s reach apart for longer than a minute. To step back and let her go. (Never let her go.) To at least let her experience things without him constantly hovering.

“Come to bed.”

The Doctor looked up sharply. “I didn’t hear you,” he admitted.

How had she snuck up on him?

“I know. You were brooding.” Rose smiled and straddled his lap, winding her arms around his shoulders.

She looked better than she had when he’d first seen her in hospital. More color to her cheeks and after a hot bath where he hadn’t let her out of his sight or his arms, her hair drifted softly around her face.

“I wasn’t brooding,” he said, but with no real heat. “I was thinking.”

“Same thing.” She kissed the side of his mouth and leaned back. “It wasn’t your fault. I know you want to argue about it and come up with a hundred different ways, four flow charts, three Venn Diagrams, two pie charts, and an illustration with how it was your fault, but it’s not.”

He couldn’t help it. His lips quirked. “I don’t need _four_ flow charts,” he hedged, words tinged with amusement.

“Doctor,” Rose said seriously. “Our bond was violated. It had nothing to do with you initiating it or my accepting it. Why can’t you see it’s not your fault?”

“Because you were hurt, Rose!” He snapped. His hands flexed on her waist and when had he pulled her closer? “Because that thing was after me, you were hurt.”

“It went after you because it wanted something. You said it’d gone after that woman first, Skye? Was there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I just don’t know.”

“And you hate not knowing.” Rose nodded. “I know. But in this instance, the truth is that you couldn’t know. Do you regret our bond?”

“No,” he told her and smiled just slightly. “You know I don’t. Could never.”

“Do you know what that entity was out there?”

“No.” He sighed.

Her fingers brushed his collar, over the sides of his throat. Up the back of his neck, a gentle press of her fingers that did more to relax him than even their bath earlier. Her simple touch somehow always made him feel better.

“Could be anything.” His fingers brushed the line of skin between her vest and panties. The Doctor narrowed his eyes and glanced down. Had she walked out of their bedroom wearing this with _Jack_ in the hallways?

The Doctor pushed that aside. For now.

“Just because their scans didn’t find life on this planet, doesn’t mean they were calibrated correctly.”

“So you don’t know what it was,” Rose said as she leaned back against the table to more fully look at him. Her breasts thrust out, perfectly eye level and he was oh so tempted to push up her vest and taste her. “And you had no way of knowing that it was there and going to try and invade your mind. You feel violated.”

She nodded again. “I understand, Doctor. But I’m not going to let it, or the memory of that pain, stop me. Us.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, hands back on his hips. Keeping her close. Unable to push her away.

“I’m not going to let you pull away,” she said and he wondered if she really could read his mind. “You pull back when you’re scared. I refuse to let you,” she said so simply he had to stare at her.

“Rose.”

“Nope!” She smiled but her eyes were dark and serious. “This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to pull back. I doubt it’ll be the last. We don’t purposely look for danger.” She shrugged. “It’s just the parts in between, yeah?”

He nodded, remembering his words from Christmases ago when they stood outside the TARDIS, new new Doctor and new new adventures waiting for them. So eager to travel with Rose, so nervous she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, accept him again. Desperate to taste her with his new mouth and see her with new eyes and feel her with his new body.

Terrified the time he’d promised her to adjust and get to know him again would be all the time it took for her to realize she wanted nothing to do with him.

“And I’m not giving up our bond.” She said that so firmly, so forcibly, he blinked.

He doubted his ability to give it up, no matter how much he thought it might be better for her if they did.

“I love you.” She cupped his face and watched him carefully. “I love you and whenever I feel your mind brushing up against mine, I can feel your love for me, too. It…it sorta wraps around me, caresses me like your hands and mouth do. That’s part of us now. And I know it’s still there. I reach out to you, for you, but even though we’re so close, even when we were in the bath, skin to skin, it felt as if you were so far away.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t know why that is, either. I don’t know if it was because of the…the invasion.” He shuddered. He never wanted to feel like that again. Not in control of his own mind.

“Can we work on strengthening it again?” Rose asked, lips pressed to his.

“Yes,” he breathed. Kissed her, soft and gentle and full of promise. “Yes, we can. I promise.”

“Good.” Instead of deepening the kiss, Rose stood.

The Doctor blinked up at her for a moment, confused. How had she got so far away from him so quickly? But she reached out a hand and grinned. It started as a light grin, the faintest stretch of her lips, then blossomed to a full on smile. He loved that smile, the wide one she had that showed her joy and delight in things.

“Come back to bed, Doctor.”

This wasn’t the end of this day. The Doctor doubted he’d get much sleep for a while, even with Rose wrapped in his arms. And he knew her, knew what gave her nightmares. Slowly rising, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

He didn’t voice the words, but silently promised her he’d watch out for her. Protect her. Be there to hold her through the nightmares even if he couldn’t stop them. Always for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Winston is affectionate to the Doctor but where there might be more questions than answers, but a short wrap-up to this story. No worries, all questions do and will be answered. Just not today.

Behind him, Rose slept. Between the events on Midnight and the DNA changes, she was exhausted and he refused to wake her just to assure himself she was alive and well and with him.

His fingers itched to touch her. His mouth begged to taste her. His body burned to feel her moving against his.

Head in his hands, the Doctor stayed where he was, forcing his body to still, as he worked through all that had happened in the last day, during their aborted leisure holiday. But he found his thoughts returning to the two same things. His and Rose’s bond, and Jack.

The Doctor had carefully entered her mind, terrified their bond would’ve been not just tainted, but torn and unfixable due to the entity that had tried to take over him.

Faintly glowing as always, the connection he had with Rose called to him, beckoning him. Although not as strong as it’d been when she’d first found her way back, the golden-red light nonetheless burned with love and hope and acceptance and want, and caressed him closer.

“I’ll have to work on my mental walls,” he’d admitted, lying in their bed next to her. Her head rested on his chest, fingers splayed between the buttons of his oxford. “I don’t want anything else using me to get hurt you.”

Rose shifted to look up at him. She looked like she was going to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she leaned up and kissed him, a soft caress of her lips against his.

“You’ll have to teach me,” she said softly. Not lightly, but not as serious as he’d have liked. “Work on my walls, too, hmm?”

He’d wanted to tell her that doing so might not help—that thing had attacked him, used him to hurt her. Had somehow, maliciously and with intent, wound its way along their bond. Shoring up any telepathic walls she had would be like putting sandbags against a tsunami. He remained silent.

Concern.  
Worry.  
Anxiety.  
Support.  
It embraced him as surely as if she’d spoken the words, as if she’d told him everything he now felt from her.

Overwhelmed by her love, his throat closed on the words. He didn’t know how, had no idea such a thing was even possible, but suddenly he wondered if perhaps their separation had been responsible for their bond strengthening. It couldn’t have been the DNA changes—those had been physiological not telepathic. And even those physical changes wouldn’t have been enough to have any impact on their bond or any increase in her telepathic abilities.

But now, with Rose asleep and only the gentle hum of the TARDIS for company, the Doctor turned his attention to Jack.

Why had Rose flinched away from him? She had no Time Sense, no reason to know how wrong Jack was.

Again, the changes to her DNA shouldn’t have done anything to that, nothing to make her suddenly develop a Time Sense or to have any inkling that Jack was such a permanent and fixed point in time.

The Doctor rubbed his eyes. He, on the other hand, did know. And it was alternatively getting easier to be around Jack, and getting worse.

The ripples now came more frequently, overlapping images of things that had happened or could’ve happened. He’d often seen time lines like that—potentials and possibilities and choices. This was far different. This was almost as if he saw double—what happened and a very specific, very pinpointed alterative. He had no explanation for them.

Or maybe he didn’t want an explanation.

Because the only changes to his life, the only changes that had occurred nearly simultaneously with the ripples had been Jack…and Rose. Had her return somehow changed things? The Doctor didn’t want to think about that, wanted to wrap her in his arms and run with her as far and as fast as he could. Activate the TARDIS shields and keep her safe. And with him.

Winston suddenly appeared on the desk. They had a love-hate relationship, but that, too, was getting easier between them. Now, it seemed as if the feline sensed the Doctor’s worry over Rose. The cat purred gently and bumped his hand, twisting himself beneath the Doctor’s touch.

“What am I going to do, Winston?” he asked, picking the cat up and letting the soft purr and affectionate head butting soothe him. “I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

Even the TARDIS’s hum changed at that. Softer, lower, promises and security. The Doctor smiled up at his ship and wondered if She had any explanation for the time ripples. It surprised him that She hadn’t tried to run from Jack, but then many things She did surprised him.

Winston licked his face, the most affection he’d received from the cat in years. Running his long fingers over the cat’s head, down his back, only to repeat, the Doctor pushed all his worry, all the questions and problems and uncertainties to the back of his mind.

He’d figure them out. Later. Right now was for Rose.


End file.
